(Don't) Forget
by Swissed Toast
Summary: I didn't want to die; didn't want to forget. I feared becoming a nobody. So then, wasn't it ironic that I'd be reborn into a world where I'd likely die as a nobody — just one body in a sea of corpses. If I want even a small chance of avoiding that fate, there was really only one option for me. Self insert.
1. Prologue

**Well. Here you go, guys. Hopefully I won't grow to resent this story as well. This is a rewrite of Redundancy. The old story barely got anything done, so it's only a rewrite of the first few chapters.**

 **Naruto** © **Masashi Kishimoto**

* * *

Dying was supposed to be the end of everything. Or at least, everything mortal. Depending on the religion, you could get a variety of answers as to what came after death; heaven, hell, purgatory, reincarnation. They were all possible answers, though not ones that I ever dabbled with. I didn't believe in any of those things, because the idea of there being something else required me to believe that there was someone, something out there that could not be explained.

So, when my eyes shut for the last time and I died, I expected nothing. I expected to simply … disappear from existence and cease to exist. Well, not truly cease to exist, because matter cannot be destroyed. I'd be recycled into the earth after my cells died and become a multitude of different things, but never truly disappear. The Law of Conservation of Mass dictates that.

In the back of my mind, though, as much as I hate to admit it, a part of me clung to the idea of life after death. I feared becoming a nobody. All my life I'd been working to become someone well known and worthy of praise, and to have it all ripped away was a bit hard to stomach, even if I was the one who had brought upon that very action.

Maybe that's the reason why I opened my eyes after what could only be seconds after my death. The sea of people I faced was _enormous,_ but somehow it felt like I was completely alone in this world that shouldn't have existed. I walked forward, somehow managing to find a space between the crowds that was just the right size for me to fit through. My eyes never strayed from the stark whiteness that covered the horizon. There were multiple distinct doors that I could see; none of them grew any closer no matter how long I walked.

People separated into distinct groups, each heading towards a specific door. I found myself wandering with the one I'd first found, unsure of where I was going. Time began to blur together and without a way to tell how much time had passed, I resorted to counting my steps. By then, though, I'd been walking long enough that it did little to tell me how long I'd been there for.

The steps ticked forward for awhile, until I realized that I could no longer remember my name. Next came my age, my friends, and eventually parts of my memory. Everything was flowing away and the many of the things that remained were unrecognizable without the others. I could remember words and symbols, convoluted riddles and information that I clung to with a sort of desperation that you'd see in a newborn whose mother put them down. When I attempted to breach what used to be my elementary school years, I found it shredded apart and difficult to remember.

I stopped counting my steps.

I replayed the information I had left, repeating it and drilling it into my brain, because I didn't want to forget. I repeated formulas and words in my head, burning the symbols into my brain and retreating away from the dull whiteness surrounding me. The crowds began to thin out, but it wasn't until I finished reciting how to calculate the trajectory of a moving object for probably the thousandth time that I finally realized I was alone for real this time. That feeling had lingered since I arrived, but this was the first time that I'd truly been alone.

There might have been thousands of people behind me, but I'd never know; I couldn't look back, in fear of losing track and forgetting even more, so instead I closed my eyes, drawing inward and secluding myself from the empty husk of a world that I'd been wandering, my repetition beginning once again.

 _Don't forget. You can't forget._

Those words became my mantra, and nothing could rip me away. Not even the warmth that surrounded me, or the awful feeling that I was being crushed. All I could do was repeat, and repeat, and repeat, unwilling to forget the things I'd spent my entire life learning. A part of me longed to look back at the memories that had been stolen away.

An inscrutable amount of time passed between when I closed my eyes and when the pressure began to become unbearable. For a second, my concentration lulled, and that was all it took for my mind to run blank and the pressure to grow. I was being squeezed, pushed, constricted; it was as if someone stuffed me in a box and proceeded to crush it.

And then, it was cold.

For the first time in however long I could _breathe_ and the memories I'd been desperately chanting didn't disappear. My eyes cracked open, only to snap shut when a multitude of lights and colours blinded me. Instincts told me to scream, and so I did; I screamed at the top of my lungs. noticing the awfully high pitch that followed the action. Goosebumps broke out across my skin from the abrupt temperature change, and I shivered violently.

Besides being cold, it was also terribly loud in the room. I was passed from one group of hands to another until finally someone was kind enough to wrap me in something warm and hand me off again. I considered opening my eyes again, in hopes of seeing who exactly was holding me like I was a baby doll, but the prospect of being temporarily blinded stopped me.

Attempting to begin my repetitions made my head hurt, and reluctantly I found myself relaxing in the arms of this giant stranger with a soft voice. The language she spoke was vaguely familiar, but I was exhausted from what had to have been an eternity of repeating the same things over and over again, and before long, I found myself falling asleep, my brain too scattered to think about all the memories that I'd lose from this simple action.

* * *

I barely remember the months following my birth into this new world. I'd figured out I'd been reborn pretty quickly, and it didn't take much longer for me to realize that I shouldn't have remembered anything about my previous life. The science part of me was a bit annoyed at the idea, simply because I'd refused to accept rebirth as being possible for so long and I hated being proved wrong.

The thought of this being hell came as well, but that didn't make me feel any bit better; if anything, it made me feel worse, because it just reaffirmed that I'd been so _fundamentally wrong_ for all those years. And fuck that.

The first truly clear memory I have of my infant days can't be more than two months after my birth. By then, my eyesight is a bit better, and I coo up at the person hovering above me. Brown hair frames his face — in my old world, he'd be what people described as a 'pretty boy' —, falling freely over his eyes, and his expression is one of curiosity. _"Ohayou,"_ he greets softly in response to my childish babbling. I blink up at him, reaching a chubby fist for the locks of hair that are right outside my reach. A toothpick sticks out of his mouth for some reason.

It's pretty easy to figure out that he is my older brother, and a rush of happiness fills my body, eliciting a giggle that I have little control over. Although my memory of my past family is long gone, I know that I was an only child; the loneliness is something that I'll never forget, even if I wanted to. It was something I managed to keep, on accident. I'd been too panicked to realize what I was forcing myself to remember, I'd simply snatched up whatever was remaining.

Thankfully, the days after that blur together once again, leaving me blissfully ignorant of the days before I was potty trained. No longer did I have hypersensitive ears, much to my delight, and my eyesight had matured enough that I wasn't half blind. The itching that had plagued me became nothing more than an irritating nuance.

My life as a young toddler was boring, as to be expected. I don't remember it very well; the lack of proper stimulation just made it completely pointless, and my brain did not like to spend more than an hour on the complicated memories of calculus and physics I'd retained from my former life, leading me to reluctantly retreat into my own imagination, laced with the plots of games and tv shows from my past life that I'd somehow managed to retain despite never willingly repeating them to myself while in the white world.

My mother was kind enough to read to me, but the books were simply picture books that were nothing in comparison to the story lines I had at my disposal. I didn't speak much, but I'd managed to pick up the language — which I figured out to be Japanese not very long after my birth — far too quickly for a toddler. My mother had been startled, and soon afterwards had lead to my voluntary silence. I think she was more bothered by that than anything, but she didn't stop attempting to pull responses from me. Our one sided conversations were … nice, if not a bit weird, but it was nice to have someone care so much.

While she was kind, though, she definitely had some … strange habits, to put it nicely. It was as if she was always on edge; always expecting something awful to happen. She tended to relax when my brother was home, but the stiffness of her shoulders never truly went away.

She'd been especially stiff that day. At least — or maybe unfortunately would be a better word — I remembered it well enough. It was the start of the "memory" days, as I'd call it; the time when days no longer flowed into one big, disgusting mess that made it impossible to tell what was what.

That date was October 10th.

I don't remember how I woke up, but I do remember choking. Something malicious and ugly had slipped down my throat, filling my body with something awful that made it impossible for me to so much as breathe. For a brief moment, the terror reminded me of that time when my memories had flown away, and I fell back into the rhythmic pattern that I'd been neglecting.

It didn't help, and I found myself _dying and choking, too afraid to scream in case it came in and slaughtered me._ Memories became an insignificant little chip that I couldn't bring myself to care about, and for a second I forgot I was even alive. Time seemed to freeze in place.

The door slamming open helped break apart the freeze, and in an instant the terror was flushed away, replaced with a type of euphoria that made my heart relax and muscles untense. My mother rushed to my side, babbling my name and something else that I didn't process. The brief happiness died away, leaving me feeling empty.

"Mom?" I weakly wrapped my arms around her neck when she picked me up, forgoing my usual silence. "What's wrong?"

The clothes she wore were both familiar and not, and for some reason they made a horrible dread appear in my chest. My body began to shake, and I stuffed my head into the stiff vest she was wearing, trying to breathe over the thickness of the air. We made a quick detour to my closet, and she quickly reached in for the backpack stuffed in there. I'd never noticed it before.

"Nagisa-chan," she mutters lowly as she made her ways through the halls. "Can you do me a favour?"

I raise my head to look up at her, and she takes my silence as a yes. "Do exactly what I tell you. Alright?"

I simply rest my head back against her, dipping it into a very small nod, basking in the tiny amount of comfort the action brings me. The air is stifling, and each breath takes two times as much effort as it should. It's like I'm breathing through a straw.

Outside … is chaos. The air becomes heavier, more solemn, and I gasp, choking on it. An awful, deafening roar beats into my skull. My mother simply presses her lips to my head, whispering a small apology before we're flying.

On the horizon is a monster. A massive, red, destructive monster with _power_ that was practically rolling off it, seeping into the air and clogging it up. For a moment I forget to breathe, barely able to choke back a scream when I recognize it.

I spare a frantic glance back at my mother, but she simply keeps her eyes locked ahead of her. Another figure lands beside her, easily slipping into the run, and he shoots a glance over his shoulder, at the destruction.

"Sorry, Hiroki-kun," she replies. It doesn't sound very energetic. "I'm just — I'm heading to bunker 5."

Her hold on me tightens and I squeeze my eyes shut, ignoring the glint on her forehead. Hiroki says something that I don't understand, before he disappears — likely back into the haze of … whatever. Ninja, I guess.

 _Ninja._

Mom lands with just barely a jolt, and I crack my eyes open, staring miserably at the people crowding ahead of us. She moves over to one of the elderly women.

"Please —" she starts off, her voice frantic, "Ma'm; will you — my child …"

The older woman turns, her eyes going wide as she sees me, and immediately her aged face softens. I stare back at her, clutching the fabric of my mother's flak vest between a small fist. A few words are exchanged. I'm set on the ground, and my mother kneels, turning me around so she can slip the backpack onto my back. She turns me around, and I take in her appearance.

High cheekbnes. Dark brown hair and a startlingly bright shade of green eyes that make my dull blue ones look ugly in comparison. And on her forehead, standing out clear as day —

Is a Leaf Village headband.

My bottom lip wobbles. I shoot another look at the horizon; at the monster rampaging in the distance, and realize that my mother … isn't coming back. More than likely, my brother is somewhere in there as well; either dead, or soon to be dead.

The backpack is ten times heavier than it should be.

"Please — don't leave," I beg, and my mother's eyes light up. A small, sad smile sweeps across her face, and I feel an awful sense of loneliness (that feeling that I'd never really, _truly_ been able to forget) burn my stomach. It makes me wish I'd spoken to her more, rather than stayed silent. "Mom —"

She pulls me forward, holding my cheeks in her hands and pressing a kiss to my forehead. I resist the urge to bring my hand up and touch the spot, instead blinking back tears that I swear are mirrored in my mother's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Nagisa-chan," she says. "I love you."

I swallow back a lump, words fleeing from my tongue and leaving me empty. It's like I'm a newborn again; sucking up all the words, all the information — but being unable to force my lips and tongue to cooperate. To repeat those things.

"I — I love you too," I reply. "Will you …"

I never finish the sentence.

The same ninja from earlier drops out of nowhere, starling the living hell out of me, and my mother gets to her feet, giving me one last smile before she turns to the older woman and bows low, thanking her profusely and apologizing for the trouble.

And then … she's gone, along with the male ninja. I stare at the spot she took up, my eyes lingering for a few seconds before turning to look at the grandma. She offers me a small, yet sad smile, and holds out her hand. "Let's go, child."

It's a blur after that. The bunker is crowded, but a civilian child and an elderly woman aren't going to be turned away. When we're in, though, I see the woman's eyes search the crowd, and shrink in on myself.

She likely, _hopefully_ has some family in here. It's not fair for me to keep her from them; I may be a child — at least in terms of appearance —, but I definitely don't need to be coddled.

"Obaa-san," I start, slipping my hand from her grip. "It's OK. I'll be fine by myself."

She looks slightly startled when I speak. "Nonsense … your mother —"

"I'll be OK," I repeat. "Thanks."

And then, I disappear into the crowds. I have to take care not to get stepped on — I'm still a bit wobbly on my feet, and I'm only reaching a lot of people's kneecaps — but when I somehow manage to reach the back part, against the wall, I sink down and drop my head to my knees.

Hours pass; hell, it could've been days and I wouldn't have noticed. The fox, the headband; it's all familiar. _Too_ familiar.

I shouldn't have remembered it; just like all those other story lines I'd somehow managed to retain, despite never actually repeating them while in the white world.

… Or at least, I don't think I did. I was there for so long that everything just — it's blurred. I barely remember it. I _shouldn't_ remember it.

And yet, I do.

I piece together the details that remain. The Nine Tailed Fox is the beginning; the start of the show … series? Manga? It's not fake anymore; calling it a cartoon feels wrong. But … this doesn't feel right, either.

After the Nine Tails, there's the Chuunin Exams; the catalyst for the hell that becomes of the series. What had started it … Orochimaru, right? When he'd bitten Sasuke's shoulder and left the curse seal there, leading him to ultimately abandon the village in search for power.

Excluding all the small details and jumping into the huge, main points, then comes a war; the war that brings all the four (five? How many are there?) shinobi nations together for the first time in forever. Hadn't quite a few main canon characters died in that?

Either way, that's in the not-so-far future. With the raging _thing_ outside, and my age, that means I'm right in the main timeline, plus one and nine months. Not a part of Rookie Nine, but rather the graduating class ahead of them. Probably.

… It could be worse, I suppose. I could be an infant and therefor a part of the Rookie Nine. Either way, my life is doomed to be short lived, but at least I have the chance to live an extra not-quite-two-years before I die.

All that assuming I become a ninja, that is. It's the complete opposite of my past life; my previous life had been mundane, boring, and immensely lonely. Filled with empty promises and high expectations that I'd been expected to fulfill.

And I did fulfill them, in the end.

I shake that thought away. Do I want to become a ninja? Do I want to risk my life? As an orphan, I doubt I'll get much of a chance to go to the Academy; there are a lot of orphans, and if the village took them all on as ninja, well …

There'd be no space for clan kids. For kids who have families willing to pay for it.

Despite the sea of bodies surrounding me, the loneliness that I'd been fighting back since my rebirth into this world quickly approaches, fanning out across me and swallowing me whole. I remove my bag from my back and hug it tightly, wishing — but not expecting — for my mother to come back.

This has to be hell; it must be my punishment for my last life. To be trapped in a world where I'm doomed to die an early, and likely violent, death. Where I know, for a fact, that I'll never truly be safe. My first option is become a shinobi and live my life fighting for the village. Taking that path, I know that I'll likely not live past eighteen; the same age I'd died in my last life.

But my other option? My other option is to simply stay helpless. As a ninja — I can try to change something. The Chaos Theory immediately jumps to mind, and I quickly latch onto that train of thought, in hopes of ignoring the earlier feelings.

I'm not naive enough to think that just my birth is enough to change anything drastic. I mean, I'm an orphan. But my foreknowledge, however scarce it may be, immediately gives me an advantage.

I could befriend Naruto. If I become a ninja, I could attempt to stop Orochimaru from attacking Sasuke. I could become powerful, become someone _useful_ and capable.

In hindsight, I realize that there's nothing too major I can do, sans fucking up the plot entirely. But still, the fact that I have the chance, the _opportunity_ to make a difference in this world …

It's a goal I'd like to pursue.

* * *

Numb is probably the best way to describe how I feel when I'm pulled out from the bunker. The grandma from earlier is gone, and it's young girl, no older than thirteen, who lifts me off the ground somewhat awkwardly and carries me out. The destruction is incredible, even in our area (which I'm guessing is one of the better ones). The girl carries me over to a taller man who has the same headband as my mother did. I stare blankly at him as he writes something down.

"How old?"

The girl looks down at me awkwardly, and I hold up two fingers, because I'll die before letting these people know I've actually just turned one back in January. He grunts, but jots it down. "Name?"

"Nagisa," I reply softly, leaning my head against the teenage girl's shoulder. "… Mom is gone."

"Orphan, then." He nods, and my carrier fidgets uncomfortably. "Those kids over there are, too." He motions at a group of three kids, all older than me. The girl walks me over, and when she places me down I notice she too is wearing a Leaf Village Headband.

They stop by one more bunker, which adds an additional 3 children to our group of four. One of them is about my age, and the girl takes him off another child's hands as we begin to walk. We're ushered off to the orphanage by the male shinobi, and the girl trots behind somewhat awkwardly, as if she's unsure what to do. She resorts to carrying me as well as the other boy when I'm unable to keep up, and my backpack dangles off one of my arms.

The woman who answers the door is tall and sinewy, reminding me of a dancer without the grace. Unlike my mother's face, hers is round, without the prominent cheekbones and small nose. I shut my eyes, willing those thoughts away. The last thing I need to do is go crying and make the matron dislike me.

I'm handed off along with some papers. She places me down, and then takes the other boy. The other children follow, discarding their shoes at the entryway, and I follow their lead, not bothering to look back at the adults. The building is tall and bare and I'm met with none of the warmth that I associate with a home. The walls are plain, paint chipping and children crowding the halls and rooms. It's obvious that this orphanage in particular is horribly overcrowded.

I stand nervously, my bag dangling from my arm. I'm unsure what to do with it. An older child approaches, and I meet her eyes with only a small amount of nervousness.

"Hi," she greets. "I'm Midori. What's your name?"

I shuffle my feet uncomfortably. "Nagisa."

She nods, giving me a small smile. "It's nice to meet you."

"Midori-chan, please bring Nagisa-chan to the third bedroom," the woman requests, after the ninja have gone on their way. "Also …" she looks down at the paper. "Souta-kun?"

The other toddler looks up from the floor, his cheeks puffy and eyes swollen from tears. The matron looks back at the paper, avoiding his gaze. "Midori-chan, please bring Souta-kun as well. They'll share the remaining bed."

My nose scrunches up at the notion of sharing a bed with a toddler. He's just going to end up slobbering everywhere and kicking me in the face. Midori goes over to the boy, hefting him to his feet with a small amount of effort.

"Hi, Souta-kun," she greets, looking only a little bit uncomfortable when he removes his hand from his mouth and holds onto her hand with it. "This is Nagisa-chan."

He blinks at me. I blink back.

A few seconds pass. Midori looks at the both of us nervously, before she cuts in with, "Well … I guess we should get going. Follow me?"

She offers her free hand to me, but I simply clutch the straps of my bag, silently rejecting the offer. She leads us slowly through the halls and then up the stairs before stopping before a door. "This is the bedroom you guys'll stay in."

Three bunk beds are crammed into the room, all of which are empty at the moment, and I can't help but feel incredibly claustrophobic. The house I'd lived in with my mother hadn't been huge, but to me it was more than large enough.

A pang of loneliness hits and I swallow back a lump, forcing myself not to shed the tears that are already forming. Instead I ask, somewhat shakily, "Are you staying?"

"Oh — no, I'm in a different bedroom," Midori replies, releasing Souta's hand. "Since I'm eight, I stay with the older kids. I'm in the academy." She grins as she says that, practically radiating pride. "Do you want to be a ninja, Nagisa-chan? Those are people who protect the village."

She speaks quickly, but I pick out quite a few key words and am able to put together the rest of the sentence on my own. Then I look down at my feet, wiggling my toes. "Yeah," I reply, softly, after a few seconds. "Like mom."

 _'And my brother,'_ I mentally tack on.

Still, twelve years isn't a lot of time to prepare for what's going to happen. My mind whirls, quickly doing a few calculation to find out how much time I'll actually have to train if I become a ninja. Considering that I'm an orphan, it's likely that I'm not going to get any training in the ninja arts until I enter the academy … that's, what, three years from now? Four?

"Um … Midori?" I ask timidly, not bothering to tack on a suffix to her name. Despite the vast amount of vocabulary I picked up from my mother and brother (on the rare occasions he was around), I still struggle a bit. "How old do I gotta be?"

Midori hums, looking up at the ceiling for a moment. "There are early tests you can take as young as four," she holds up four fingers as she says this, "but we orphans aren't allowed to take those. So when you turn six you can."

So six. That gives me just under eight years — eight years to learn enough to survive the hell that'll go down. The calculations come easily (for the first time in awhile, I'm thankful for the eternity of repetitions in the white world); eight years is equal to 96 months. 96 months is equal to 2,922.2222 days (2,922.2222 times twenty four hours a day —). 70,133.3328 hours.

Of course, I won't be able to spend every single hour over the next eight years training. I'll have to factor in sleeping, eating, eventually the academy —

"Um … Nagisa-chan?" Midori's soft voice effectively derails my thoughts, and I resist the urge to stomp my foot. "Are you OK?"

I nod, despite my irritation. "I'm tired," I reply. "Which is mine?"

 _'And Souta's'_ goes unspoken. We're assigned the only available bed, and when Midori exits the room Souta follows after her like a lost kitten. He leaves the door wide open, so I quickly cross the room and close it, barely making it back to the bed before I drop to the floor, my head cradled in my hands. It wouldn't be worth finishing the calculations just yet; I need to get my schedule down, first. Figure out how much I sleep and how much time I spend eating. If I observe it for a week, that should be enough time to get a realistic number, right?

My head pounds and I crawl over to my bed, pushing back the covers and hiding beneath them. There's no clock in the room, but I'm not willing to go all the way downstairs to check, leading me to reluctantly decide that the test week will start tomorrow, rather than today. I repeat the number — _70,133.3328, 70,133.3328, 70,133.3328 …_ — over in my head, willing myself not to forget, and the action makes my entire body feel hollow inside. In the back of my mind, I make a note to ask for a piece of paper and something to write on.

* * *

I wasn't expecting my test week to be interrupted on the last day. When I'd woken up, I was happier than I'd been the last few days. Keeping track of how long I'd spent doing various actions through the week was exhausting; I'd gotten a notebook from one of the older kids, but my handwriting is so unsteady and awful that the numbers barely resemble anything legible.

The current tally is added up, with 474 minutes — _7.9 hours; it was better to round that up to 8 —_ for meals, three hours of napping a day — _what can I say; my mood has been utter shit —_ and an average of 10 hours of sleep a night — _60 hours so far; another ten tonight would be 70 but it's better to just multiply 10 by 30 to get an even 300 hours a month since multiplying by 4 would assume an average of 28 days a month instead of thirty —_ , leading to a grand total of 96 hours per week on average, not counting today's nap and meal time.

All I needed was to finish off today and I'd be able to finish the stupid calculations. As I sat down at the table for breakfast, shooting a look at the clock on the wall as I did so, the caretaker — the woman who'd met us at the door when we first arrived; her name is Mitsuko — entered the room with a strange look on her face.

"Nagisa-chan," she calls out, her eyes locked on me. I look up, blinking, and she beckons me over with her hand. Somewhat irritated I comply, moving as quick as I could in hopes to get this over with so I could finish this meal and get the number down already. She leads me out of the room and towards the entrance, and I follow in confusion. "Today is your lucky day."

I stare at her in response, frowning. When we enter the front room I notice someone slouched down in the waiting room chairs, his arms settled in his lap and eyes staring distantly at the wall.

I freeze in place. He _feels_ familiar, but it isn't until he turns to look at me that I realize why.

"B-Brother?" I stammer, my voice cracking. "You're OK?"

He gets up, a guilty smile crossing his lips as he crouches own in front of me. "Yeah," he replies. "Sorry I was gone for so long."

I blink rapidly, tears burning my eyes, and practically throw myself at him, my tiny arms wrapping desperately around him. He stiffens momentarily but relaxes soon afterwards, patting my head softly as I bawl.

"I — I thought you're gone," I sob, my words muffled by his vest. "Like mom."

I pull away, looking up at his face and taking in the details. I'd never properly examined him before, but now that I do, I notice the headband that covers the top of his head like a bandanna. Brown hair pokes out from the sides, reaching to the bottom of his chin, and some curls at the base of his neck.

He's dressed in standard ninja gear as far as I know, as to be expected, but for some reason I can't shake the feeling that I'm missing something here. He looks familiar, but he's _my brother;_ it'd be absurd if I didn't recognize him. It's only been a few months.

"So then … Shiranui-san?" Mitsuko says. "I just need you to sign some more things, and you can take her."

Shiranui … why does that sound so familiar? Shiranui, Shiranui …

"Nagisa-chan, why don't you go get your things? Midori-chan can help you." I look up at her voice, and after receiving a pat of approval from my brother I move towards the stairs, looking over my shoulder at the two of them as I go. The Matron calls Midori in, and, after a few seconds, the older girl walks beside me as we ascend the stairs.

Shiranui, Shiranui … what am I missing?

The image of a wide arena comes to mind, the stands towering overhead and crowds roaring. Two distinct figures — _Naruto was a given, and the other one … Neji? —_ stare each other down, the proctor the only thing between them. The senbon clicks in his mouth, and he spares a glance up at the Kage box before looking back at the two boys.

"Are you excited, Nagisa-chan?" I look up at Midori, whose smile looks somewhat hollow. It's weird to see her without Souta trailing behind her. He's taken a liking to her in the past six days. "It must be nice to see your brother again."

I look down, wordlessly nodding. Midori hands me my backpack, helping me fold the few shirts and single pair of pants my mother had stuffed in my bag whenever it was she put it together. Six days isn't a very long time, and other than those few clothing items the only thing I have to pack is a notebook; the one I'd asked in the beginning. Midori zips it up, and then helps me slip it on.

"Um … Midori?" I start. She turns to look at me, and I swallow dryly before finishing, "Good luck with your test."

Her face lights up, but the hollow look from before still remains. "Thanks, Nagisa-chan." She takes me by the hand and leads me back downstairs. "Maybe I'll see you there before I graduate."

I nod again, ignoring the too tight hold on my hand in favour on focusing on not tripping. I mull over the memory, trying to place it and the awful feeling that I've forgotten something.

I release Midori's hand, toddling over to my brother and latching onto his leg. He grunts, simply looking down at me before returning to whatever he's doing up there. Midori stares at me silently before smiling lightly and turning around, heading back into the kitchen. A few seconds later Mitsuko nods, looking over the counter at me. "Well then," she starts, "you're free to go, Nagisa-chan."

"Uh … alright," I agree, somewhat unsure. My brother glances down at me as well, his senbon — it is a senbon, right? — clacking against his teeth. He's young, probably eighteen at most, and dressed in standard ninja uniform — there's nothing out of the ordinary; nothing to explain the feeling I have.

The feeling that I'm missing something — that I'm looking right past something obvious.

"You do remember me — right?" He poses the question almost hesitantly, unlatching me from his leg and crouching to my level again. "I'm Genma, your big brother."

The missing piece snaps into place and suddenly I understand.

 _'Oh.'_ I stare blankly at him, not even blinking. ' _I know who he is now.'_

I nod, and his lips curve up, the senbon following the motion. I glance at it curiously, raising my arms up to him. "What's that?"

Genma picks me up effortlessly after I put my shoes on. "A senbon," he replies. "They're a ninja weapon."

I wrap my arms around his neck and he adjusts my position. We exit the orphanage, but rather than taking the streets like I did with when I arrived, Genma shoots off the ground, exactly like mom did on that day. He lands on one of the roofs and before I can protest he continues across them. I simply hide my face in his neck.

When we stop moving I look up. We're in the middle of an apartment complex, right in front of a door that reads '104' on the name plate. Genma searches his pocket for a moment before he removes a key and slips it into the door's lock. I watch wordlessly.

"Welcome home," he says, his voice even, without any trace of emotion. I blink rapidly, resisting the urge to cry, and search his face in hopes of seeing some kind of emotion.

His eyes flicker up to me, and I see it. Swirling in his eyes are traces of sadness, longing — even anguish. They're gone almost immediately, and I wordlessly nod, simply resting my head on his shoulder.

The apartment is small, but not empty. There are two couches and a table in the living room, which is connected to a small kitchen equipped with a stove and rice cooker. There are a few other things that I can't remember the name of, and Genma sets me down on one of the couches after we remove our shoes. "Do you need anything?"

"Uh …" I shrug. "Water?"

I dangle my feet over the edge of the couch, curling my toes silently. Genma returns a few seconds later with a mug in hand, and I notice with amusement that it is almost wider than my face. It's only half full, and I slip one hand through the handle and take a sip from it. I set it between my thighs when I finish, and Genma watches me from the other couch.

I stare back, and when he doesn't say anything I pick up one of the pillows on my couch and toss it at him. He catches it effortlessly, and for some stupid reason I'm amazed. When he doesn't say anything I resign myself to breaking the silence. "Stop it."

"Hm?"

I glare, dropping my gaze to my mug. "Looking at me. Stop it."

He shrugs, getting up from his couch and moving to mine. "Alright," he agrees, dropping the pillows back on the couch. "Are you hungry?"

"… Uh-huh," I respond, picking my mug back up and putting it on the floor so that I can turn around and clamber onto the back of the couch. "Make me food?"

"What do you want?"

I hum in thought. "Uh … I don't know," I admit. "Eggs?"

"Eggs?" He repeats, and I nod. "What kind of eggs?"

I frown. "Tamagoyaki."

He shrugs, but agrees. I watch him for a few seconds longer before climbing over the back of the sofa and pushing off. I land with a _thump_ and wince, getting to my feet. The table is tall, and I huff, using the wooden support on the chair to get up. My hands scramble for something to grab onto, sliding uselessly against the flat surface, and before I can try again a pair of hands slip underneath my arms and lift me up.

"Better?" Genma asks, an amused smile stretched across his lips. I nod, and he pats my head before returning to cooking. I rest my cheek against the surface of the table, humming quietly. It's a lot nicer here than the orphanage.

… The orphanage.

My head shoots up and I press my hands to my cheeks, blinking quickly as I scour my brain for any trace of the numbers I'd been calculating less than an hour ago. To my horror, a few of them have been forgotten about, and I swallow back a whimper.

At the very least, I remember the first number — 70,133.3328 hours —, but that doesn't have the past six days factored into it … does it?

 _No … it's alright,_ I reassure myself as I feel panic growing in my throat. _It's only six days. That's not a big deal; the original number was a broad guess, since I don't know when everything actually goes bad. It's alright. It's no big deal._

"What's not a big deal?" My head shoots up as Genma sets down the plate of tamagoyaki in the middle of the table and another plate and a tiny fork in front of me. He uses a pair of serving chopsticks to put some on my plate before settling down on the other chair across from me. I sit up on my knees, balancing on my elbows so that I can actually see what I'm doing.

"Huh?" I reply, reaching for the fork. I mutter a quick, _"Itadakimasu,"_ before stabbing one of the pieces and taking a bite from it. I chew, but don't really notice it; it's just … instinct. My mind is elsewhere, attempting to salvage the bits and numbers from earlier, but it's ultimately worthless.

Genma doesn't take any of it. Something flashes in his eyes again — they're shaped exactly like mom's, I notice painfully — and I stare down at my plate, dropping my fork. The entire scene is _wrong_ without her.

"Can I go to bed?" I ask, gloomily, feeling sick to my stomach all of a sudden. "Sorry … I didn't feel good." I pause. "No … um. Don't feel good," I correct. My voice sounds distant; disconnected.

"It's barely nine in the morning," he points out with a frown. I shrug. He stares at me for a moment before he sighs in agreement. "Alright" he says, after a small pause. "That's fine."

He leaves the dishes on the table, and I slip out of my seat, wordlessly offering my arms to him in expectation. He grants my wishes, thankfully, and I bury my head against his shoulder, breathing in deeply.

It's not mom, but it's familiar at least.

* * *

 **A/N: I think I like this setup more, but I'm not sure. Up to you guys? Also it's like 1am so if those calculations are, like, dramatically wrong, please point it out! I'm happy to fix it.**

 **Also, I'm still kind of figuring out some details of this story. For example, Nagisa refers to the old woman as "obaa-san" when speaking to her, rather than "old lady", because she's still feeling somewhat disconnected from the language and because she's still very young. I'm still deciding on whether or not I should use some of those terms or not, so maybe tell me what your opinion is? I'm really on the fence about it.**

 **Thanks for reading. Any comments, or questions are appreciated! Even if it's something simple.**


	2. Pre-Academy: Chapter 1

**Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto  
**

 **Fillers. Part 1. Don't worry, we'll be at the main stuff shortly; I just have a lot to build up and setting up the basics for Nagisa's personality, which is why this chapter just kind of jumps around. I've already written the next two chapters by the way, which are also filler, but not as boring.**

* * *

October rolls into November rather uneventfully; nothing particularly important happens, except for my calculations. The number hadn't been nice; not at all. On the contrary, I'd burst into tears when I finished doing it, just because the number was so __small_._

Genma had been startled, but nothing he could do was able to calm me down. All I could do was let it brew. Maybe do the calculations again; that seemed like a pretty good idea, didn't it? In a few weeks I'd do it again. I wasn't expecting a different result — not drastically different, that is, but the thought helped a bit.

My speaking skills … have improved, I suppose. There's a strange, disturbing disconnect between Genma and that I _swear_ hadn't been there before mom's death, and despite my attempts to deal with it on my own, I'm wavering.

I'm _lonely._ At least at the orphanage I'd had Midori and Souta, as annoying as he could be, but here? Here, there's nothing. We talk, he helps me with learning to read and write, but that's it.

For the first two weeks of November he'd been off on a mission and the loneliness only grew, burrowing into my heart and wrapping its vices around the organ. Babysitters could only do so much, and following the departure, I fall into an uncomfortable and hazy depression.

The genin-babysitters noticed. I didn't care. Old habits, buried deep inside of me, resurfaced, and I threw myself into the books I'd gotten with full vigor, using them as a distraction. In the back of my mind, I recognized that this type of behavior is far from normal for a one year old child, but I couldn't bring myself to care. While the old habits didn't help, the situation was … familiar. It hurt, but at least I knew what to do.

By the time Genma returned, I'd committed the hiragana alphabet to memory — thankfully one of the genin was willing to tell me __exactly_ _ how to say them, though once I figured out the pattern it was stupidly easy — and while I couldn't steady my hand enough to trace them into my notebook, I instead compromised with drawing them in the air or on the floor with my finger in my spare time. Genma didn't seem any different than before.

* * *

Genma sleeps most of the day after he returns, waking up only to help me get something to eat before returning back to his room, but when he wakes up for real we end up going out grocery shopping. He picks me up before I can get the chance to even ask — I wasn't going to —, and then we continue down the dusty streets of Konoha. The market is only a short walk from our apartments, and when we arrive he sets me down, instead taking my hand in his to keep track of me. I trail along uselessly, kicking up dust and feeling uncomfortable around so many people.

He lets me pick out some snacks, which cheers me up a bit, but otherwise it goes exactly how I expected it to.

Awkwardly.

On our way back we're stopped by a woman who appears to be in her mid thirties. I slide behind Genma as surreptitiously as possible, trying to make myself invisible to the woman, but it doesn't work.

"Suzuki-san," Genma greets, his tone friendly and hospitable. It strikes a cord of jealousy in me. "You're looking better."

They fall into a light conversation that I do my best to ignore, if only for my own sake. Seeing him be so buddy-buddy with someone while keeping me as far away as possible _hurts._ Maybe he isn't my brother after all; maybe he's an impostor.

A pair of hands slide underneath my armpits, lifting me off the ground and placing me down in front of Suzuki. "Nagisa," he starts, his voice noticeably softer compared to earlier, "this is Suzuki-san."

"Hi," I greet lamely, ignoring the slight shake in my voice. Genma taps the top of my head and I drop my gaze to my feet, curling my toes. "Good afternoon," I correct, biting back the urge to hide. I feel like a fool.

Suzuki-san is pale, almost to a sickly state. It's somewhat scary to see.

Genma takes over the conversation again, keeping a hold on the collar of my shirt as I lean forward, seeing how far I can go. When the fabric of my shirt digs into my throat I wince, dropping the bag in favour of pulling at the restricting clothing.

"Stop it," Genma says, his tone beginning to regain its distant edge. I clam up, but follow his directions, reluctantly moving to his side. I drag my bag back with my foot, picking it up when I'm close enough. I lean against him slightly, ready to move if necessary, but he makes no effort to stop me. I sigh.

I tug at his shirt, dragging his attention away again, but he simply gives me a side glance before returning to the conversation. I scrunch my nose up, somewhat annoyed, and even slightly hurt. I'd expected him to at least bother to ask me why I'm bugging him.

The conversation wraps up soon afterwards, and Suzuki waves us off before going on her way. Genma turns to me. "What did you need?"

"Nothing." My words are firm; stubborn. I rock back on my heels, swinging my grocery bag a bit. "Sorry for interrupting."

If he notices my change in disposition he doesn't mention it. Instead, he crouches down, taking my bag from me and picking me up. I don't struggle, but instead simply lay my head against his shoulder. The jostling of him walking is comfortable, and I find myself dozing off as he walks.

* * *

It feels like an eternity has passed by the time New Years rolls around. Seeing how we're in the Land of __Fire_ _ it isn't _too cold_ outside, but that also means there is a very obvious lack of snow on the ground. Still, that lack of snow made cleaning out the apartment a lot easier, even if I didn't do much to help out. My birthday passes uneventfully; exactly how I expect it to. There's the excuse of me not remembering it, since I'm so young, but it echoes _that time_ so well that I can't help feeling nauseous and distinctly uncomfortable by the time it's over.

My brother's missions die down, at least. It's nice, in a way, to have him around, but at the same time it feels wrong. We aren't close. And I __hate it_. _ I want an older brother; I want to be happy, to not feel lonely … I want all the things my previous life had lacked. I want it _so badly_ and yet it is just right there, right out of my reach.

"Can you teach me my kanji?" I ask, turning away from the window. Genma blinks, looking up from the scroll he's reading. "If — if it's not too much trouble."

"Already?" He replies, somewhat surprised. "Didn't you just start hiragana?"

I frown. "I finished already," I repeat. "… Back in October."

His eyes widen, just a fraction, before returning to normal, and I swear I see a small smile come to his lips. "That's good," he starts, sounding impressed. "All of them?"

"Mhm." I sit down at the low table, resting my cheek on the cool wood and staring at the wall. "I did katakana too."

He's silent, and I feel my nerves flare to life. Did I say something wrong? I thought he'd want to know, so he didn't think I was stupid or anything, but —

"Good job." My head shoots up. I stare him in the face, taking in the proud expression he's wearing so clearly, and somehow those nerves dissipate. "That's really good, Nagisa."

My expression lights up, and I beam at him. "Here — wait; you have to see something!"

I shove away from the table, scampering off to my room to grab my notebook; he bough it for me for my birthday, and I've been using it near non-stop since then in an attempt to steady my handwriting. I return a few seconds later, practically tripping in my haste, and I open the notebook quickly, stumbling to find the right page.

"Look." I'm breathless from my short sprint — I'm __really out of shape_. _ "See? It's — It's my name."

There, on the page, were multiple large and messy scribbles of the characters. _なぎさ._ The penmanship is awful and sloppy, and it's written sideways and jagged, but it's still __there —_ _ and if his expression is anything to go by, Genma is impressed.

"That's — this is really impressive," he says, finally, after a long pause. "You did this by yourself?"

I nod, rocking forward excitedly. "Yeah — yeah!" I repeat, practically bouncing. "Is it? It's right, right?"

"Mm," he agrees. "Yup, that's right." He turns to look at me, reaching a hand out to ruffle my hair. "Good job."

I grin, feeling happier than I have since mom's death. The thought mellows me a bit, and I stare down at my notebook, taking in the jerky looking symbols. I wanted them to be clear and nice looking so __badly_ , _but no matter how many times I tried to get it straight, it just — wouldn't.

My coordination is awful and it's painful to be so bad at something that I used to be good at. My handwriting, back in my old life, had been tight and small. Neat. Not … this.

"Brother," the word feels foreign from my mouth; I haven't used it since that day at the orphanage. After that single word, though, I find myself stumbling, unable to think of, or grasp any words that might've been there before. "I — uh, um …"

In the end, I shake my head, retracting that thought and ducking my head in embarrassment. I couldn't ruin a nice moment like this with that kind of question — that kind of topic.

"Sorry," I apologize, snagging a pencil from the table and opening to a new page in the notebook. "N—… Nevermind."

* * *

"Do you hate me?"

The words come spewing out twelve days after that conversation; it's right after we finish dinner. Genma blinks, and I look down at the notebook, filled with my scribbling. It's getting better, slowly but surely. But at this pace, I'm going to run out of space before it looks any good, just because I can't seem to get my writing down to a reasonable size; or even semi reasonable.

"What?"

I flip the page and attempt to write my name again. _Na-Gi-Sa. Na-Gi-Sa. Na-Gi-Sa. Na-Gi-Sa —_

The pencil is taken from my grasp, and I immediately grab for it, only for Genma to hold it out of my reach. "I'm talking, Nagisa," he says firmly. "It's rude to ignore someone while they're speaking."

"Sorry," I murmur without thinking. The words come out on instinct. "Sorry, brother*."

He grimaces at the formal tone, returning the pencil. He takes a seat at the other side of the table, giving me a piercing stare that cows any kind of protest I had remaining. "I'll ask again — why would you ask me that?"

I fiddle with the pencil, attempting to break it just for the heck of it. It doesn't work, and I only keep it in my hands as a distraction. So I don't have to look at him. "I dunno."

"You're not stupid," he states. "Tell me the truth."

I chew on my bottom lip. What can I say? There's a lot I'd like to say — how I don't like the distance, how I just want him to be __familiar_ _ like mom was, how I'm so lonely — but it all dies away the second I began to put those thoughts into coherent words. Instead I shrug, all my muscles pulled taut and the urge to flee to my room becoming worse as the seconds pass.

Genma says nothing; he just continues staring at me, waiting, his expression calm and patient. I breathe out a sigh, forcing myself to relax. Even if I try to run, he'll just catch me and pull me back. He's an Anbu, after all.

Yeah, that'd been a shocker. I hadn't expected to see him come home in Anbu gear, the tattoo standing out against his tan skin. I don't remember him being an Anbu in the series; I know he's strong and all, but Anbu? Entirely unexpected. Maybe it's something unique to whatever version of Naruto this is; I mean, it definitely isn't the canon story line if I'm here.

… As far as I know, at least. Maybe _Nagisa_ existed in the show and I just took her body. It's obvious I wasn't supposed to remember anything, so who knows what would've happened if I'd just done what I was supposed to and forgot?

Would I have just been a side character? Would I have become a ninja and died before the main story line? Would I have died during it?

Would I have even been reborn here in the first place?

Maybe the whole reason I'm here is because I remembered; maybe it's a punishment for forcing myself to remember things I wasn't supposed to. If I'd done what I was supposed to, would I have ended up on Earth? Would I have still ended up here?

I wish I knew.

Taking my silence the wrong way Genma sighs, his expression softening a bit. "I'm not angry at you," he starts, his voice gentle. "Just answer me honestly."

I spare a glance at his expression before looking back at the pencil. "I don't want to."

"Why?"

I shrug. "Because it's stupid."

Wrong, wrong, _wrong;_ what am I _doing?_ All I have to do is make up a lie and this'll all be done. I'll be able to forget about blurting out something stupid like that and pretend that it didn't make him pity me.

That's the only reason things'll change anyways; he'll pity me if I tell him the truth, disgusted by how awful I am for feeling this way. He'll never say it, but I know it'll happen. That's just how it works.

"Nagisa —" he starts, and I shake my head angrily.

"I'm stupid," I mumble, digging my blunt nails into the skin of my palms. "I'm lonely when I shouldn't be."

He blinks, having not expected that kind of answer, and I plow on past the barriers, ignoring the sirens screaming at me to shut up. I've already gone this far; might as well just take the final plunge. "You're busy, and — and that's OK; I-I'm not mad …" For the first time since I was reborn in this world, I wish for longer nails. "I'm just — I'm afraid."

My voice is a whisper as I finish, and I squeeze my eyes shut, my cheeks flushing in anger and humiliation. "You're gonna be like mom." I draw my knees to my chest, ignoring the tightness and weight in my stomach. "You're gonna die, and I'll be all alone, and — and —" I cut myself off before I can finish that thought.

My nails do nothing to help with my nerves, and no matter how hard I dig them into my skin nothing more than a small twinge of pain greets me. In my old life I'd kept my nails long enough that I actually gashed my hand up once to keep myself from breaking down, and while it had lead to some awful, ugly scars, it did what I needed it to.

"It's rude, right?" I ask, my voice muffled. I bring one hand to my arm and scratch at the skin. "I'm sorry … I-I'm — I'm such a baby."

In the back of my head I realize that, considering my physical age, saying something like that really doesn't make much sense, but I can't bring myself to care. What two year old doesn't want to be seen as a 'big kid'?

Ironically, my brother picks me up and cradles me exactly like you would a baby. If I wasn't so angry at myself I'd probably laugh. Instead I hold my breath, expecting him to scold me — despite the fact that _he's_ never scolded me for something like this before — or tell me to pull myself together. It doesn't come.

"You're not a baby," he starts, leaning back against the couch. I lean my head against his chest, exhaling shakily and ignoring the way my hands are trembling. I rub my fist against my face, ignoring how hot my cheeks are.

" _Do_ you hate me?" I repeat, resisting the urge to curl forward and hide. "Because if you do, then —"

"No," he interrupts. "I don't hate you."

I spare a glance up at him. "Then why?"

He takes a long time to reply. "The thing that killed mom," he finally starts, "also killed other people I cared about."

 _ _Oh_. _ I look away, feeling shameful all of a sudden. __Wow_. I'm an asshole. Stupid and an asshole._

He must take my silence the wrong way, because he quickly continues with "But I shouldn't have neglected you over that; I'm sorry, Nagisa."

"It's fine," I mumble, lowering my eyes. Once again, I'm plagued by the urge to scratch at my skin, and I distract myself from it by giving him an awkward half hug. My stomach is churning. "… I'm sorry you're upset."

He ruffles my hair, but says nothing. "Do you …" I trail off anxiously. "Do you want me to leave you alone?"

"Nah." He cracks a smile, and it makes me feel just a tiny bit better. "You're good company. I'd just drown myself in missions if you weren't here to keep me busy."

I smile back, but it falls away soon afterwards. The air is uncomfortable and I shift slightly, leaning my head back to look at him and ignoring the guilt as I ask, "Are you gonna be gone less?"

He nods. "Yeah," he responds, ruffling my hair, "much less, princess."

The smile comes back — it's real this time, and I allow myself to feel a sliver of happiness before it's beat down by the same self-depreciating insults that've been plaguing me for a majority of the month. "Cool," I reply. "Will you teach me to be a ninja?"

"Huh. You're interested in being a ninja?" He sounds amused, though there's a hint of surprise in there, and I nod, clasping my hands together in the snake seal.

"See?" I hold my hands up, my grin growing, and the pit in my stomach seems to get smaller. "I can already do a hand seal!"

He laughs slightly. "Good job, but your left thumb is on the outside. Not the right."

"Oh." I switch my thumbs. "Like this?"

He nods, and I beam. "So — so when can I learn? Can you teach me?"

If I can learn to become a ninja, I'll be able to go to the academy quicker and graduate quicker; I'll be able to help out instead of just being a mooch. Having something to do will help with my boredom as well, and it'll even give me an actual reason to be around Genma.

His amusement dies down a bit and he raises an eyebrow. "Nagisa, you're only two."

I may be only two, but it's not like I'm __stupid_. _ I want — no, I __need_ _ to use as much of the time available to me to become strong. "But … brother —"

"No buts," he responds, effectively shutting me down. "I can help you learn hand seals and increase your flexibility, but until you're older that's it."

So really, just help me with hand seals. I'm already more flexible than I was in my past life; it may have something to do with being a toddler, but I'm not stupid enough to not know how to stretch. I bite back the argument already brewing and instead mumble, "Fine," while crossing my arms over my chest. "Then when can I?"

"Let's try for four." My eyes widen, and I immediately go to protest, only to be cut off by a stern look. "I'm not going to change my mind, Nagisa. This isn't the kind of thing you can play around with."

I breathe out heavily. There isn't that big of a difference between two and four, is there? I'm sure someone like Kakashi or Itachi — and whatever other prodigies that have popped out of this world — would be able to do it at two, and while I'm not a prodigy, it's not like I'm _stupid._

"Isn't there anything I _can_ do then?" I ask, abandoning that train of thought. "Like … like, uh — I dunno, stuff?"

Thankfully he lets my awful suggestion slide — honestly, 'stuff'? —, instead replying with, "Stretching is about it, but you're already doing that."

I splay my hands out across my legs, ignoring the urge to continue arguing about it. There's always chakra; now that I know __what_ _ it is it's a lot easier to deal with. Wasn't there some leaf sticking exercise portrayed in the show? Or tree walking?

My eyes flicker up to the ceiling. It'd be cool to be able to climb up there, though there's always the risk of losing control suddenly and plummeting to the ground face first. But if he's going to restrict me, I just have to focus on Chakra control instead; I don't need help with that; I'll have to figure out what the main exercises for increasing that are. There's the leaf one, and tree walking, and …

"Alright," I finally say, "I'll wait." I look down at my chubby hands. Becoming dexterous enough to pull off the crazy things they do in this world is going to take a lot of work. "Then the seals?"

Genma moves me off his lap and heads into his room, and I sit there dumbly, unsure if I should follow after him or not. Before I decide, though, he's already returned, a thin book in hand. He offers it to me and when I take it, I examine the cover. It's entirely kanji, and _something_ flares to life in my brain, bringing forth recognition and knowledge of it. The characters are familiar, but the combination doesn't make sense, and reluctantly I flip to the first page.

It's just … a wall of text. I flip right past it, not bothering attempting to read through it; even if I recognize the characters, I don't know what they mean.

The rest of the pages are pictures, with one hand seal per page accompanied by two views; the actual seal, and a view of the seal from above. I trace the kanji at the top of the page. It's the symbol for the tenth branch of the earthly branches; a way of telling time in China.

It's strange that it's being used like this, though. "What's it mean?" I ask, after a few seconds of mulling over it and coming to no answer.

His senbon clicks against his teeth. "Bird."

Huh. Well, I'm pretty sure the tenth branch was connected to the rooster, so it makes sense in a way.

"I'll tell you the names, so pay attention." He names off each of the seals while demonstrating them to me. Bird, boar, dog, dragon, ox, tiger, snake, rat, horse, monkey, hare, and ram. As I repeat each of the names, I blink in sudden realization.

Each of those animals are a part of the zodiac cycle. The year of the monkey, snake, etc.. Do ninjas have a zodiac cycle, then?

"Thanks," I say, after a drawn out silence. "Um … big brother?"

He looks down at me and I glance back at the book. "Can you, um …" I trail off, a bit unsure if I should be asking this sort of question; I already caused him enough trouble earlier. "Can you … can you do them really fast?"

I propose the question hesitantly, an apology already ready on my tongue in case he refuses. The show always had people doing them so quickly, and it seems almost impossible; it's the only reason I asked. Honest.

"Yeah."

He makes no motion to do so though and immediately my cheeks flush in mortification, disgust — towards myself, it was stupid and rude of me to ask; stupid, _stupid_ — already coursing through my body. I have to fight back tears as I open my mouth, ready to spew the apologies that have been lingering there since I asked —

"Watch carefully," he says, patting my head softly. "I'll do them in order."

Reluctantly I obey, ignoring the slight blur of my vision from failing to stop a few tears, and then Genma flashes through the seals __fast_._

As in, really fast; fast enough that I don't catch most of them. When he finishes my eyes are wide and the tears are gone, replaced by awe. "Wow," I start, reaching forward to grasp his hands in my own, "how did you _do that?"_

He smiles in amusement, making no move to pull his hand away. "Lots of practice. Hand seals become second nature to most ninjas eventually — it's important to spend time working on them when you're young."

I smile slightly, comparing my hand to his; there's virtually no resemblance. His hands are big and calloused, with rough skin and long fingers while mine are stubby and small, and I have to remind myself once again that there's an (at least physical) age gap between us.

"I want to become fast with seals too." I release his hand, flipping through the hand seal book again and staring at the pictures. "Do you think I can?"

Genma's senbon flicks to the other side before he responds, "I do."

My smile grows, and I nod. "Then I'll make sure an practice until they're perfect."

* * *

True to his word the missions trickle down to the point where I'm more surprised when he takes a mission then when he's not. Along with the hand seals, I continue to make my way through children's books at a slow pace. I'd been able to learn the kana easily. But reading them? That takes significantly longer to get good at.

Genma is seated beside me on the couch, reading off a scroll. I peaked at it from beneath his arms a few times, but was unable to read any of it and eventually gave up and retired to my book.

"What does __hi-to-i_ _ mean?" I ask, frowning.

He glances at where my finger is pointing. "' _ _Do_ ', _not ' _ _to_ '."_

"Ten-ten?"

"Dakuten."

I shrug, but reread it anyways. " _Hi-do_ — oh! Horrible?"

He nods, and I smile, continuing through the story. Apparently the old man lets the raccoon out and he … kills her?

I bring the book closer to my face, double checking that I'm reading it right — yep.

That's what it says.

"Huh …" I move on despite my confusion. "How weird."

I finish the book a little while later, and after shutting it I drop it to the floor with a sigh. "Big brother?"

He glances down at me, and I swing my legs anxiously. "Why won't you let me train until I turn four?"

"You don't even reach my hip," he responds, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Your body is incapable of doing some of the things you're asking me to train you to do, and I'm not going to risk you injuring yourself trying."

I roll my eyes. "There's not _that_ big of a difference between two and four. It's only two years."

Genma actually _snorts,_ and I see his hand reach up to remove his senbon from his mouth. Somewhat offended I glare at him, only for him to loop an arm around my waist and haul me up off the couch with him. I squeak, squirming in an attempt to escape from the sudden hold, but Genma doesn't put me down until we're standing in the threshold to his bedroom.

He retreats into his room, returning with a kunai moments later, and he makes a line across the wood. I frown, wanting to point out that this is an _apartment_ (and therefor he'll have to pay for that mark), but he speaks before I get the chance.

"How about this — if you can reach this height or taller before you turn four, then I'll train you immediately."

I raise my hand to the top of my head, leveling my palm and pressing it back against the wood. Then I step away, comparing the spot where my hand is to the mark.

It's about thirteen centimeters, if I'm eyeballing it correctly. I turn to look at my brother curiously, and he spins the kunai around his finger. "You should be, more or less, that height by the time you turn four."

I squint at the line, dropping my hand to my side. "How many is it?"

"I'm not sure," he admits. "But it's taller than you are now, and tall enough that you're probably not going to trip over yourself."

I ignore the backhanded insult, crossing my arms over my chest defiantly. "I'll beat that height," I respond. "You'll see! And then you'll have to keep your part of the promise."

Genma grins, his senbon tipping up with the motion. "We'll see, shorty."

"Neh." I stick my tongue out at him, grasping for the kunai in his hand. He promptly moves it out of my reach and I frown, crossing my arms and staring up at him. "Can I see that?"

"Why?" He asks, clutching the weapon rather than spinning it. "Aren't you afraid of getting injured?"

I shake my head. "You'll stop me before I do," I reply. "And besides, I'm not stupid. I know not to touch the pointy end."

His senbon flicks to the other side of his mouth. "You say that, but you're the one who grabbed the metal part of a kitchen knife last knight."

"It wasn't _sharp!_ _"_ I point out with a huff. Genma chuckles, ruffling my hair, and I glare at his back as he returns the kunai to his room. "I still think it's stupid I gotta wait."

He shrugs in response, grabbing me by the back of my shirt and hefting me into the air. "You can think it's stupid all you want, but I'm not budging until then."

When we reach my room he drops me, and I rub my neck uncomfortably. At least I'm actually wearing one of my own shirts today; if I was wearing one of his, I'd have just slid right out of it when he picked me up like that.

"I'm going to go talk to the land lord about something," he says, leaning against the threshold. "Will you be alright by yourself for a few minutes?"

"Duh," I reply back, throwing myself onto the pile of blankets in the corner. "I'll be more than alright."

He gives me skeptical look before shrugging. "Make your bed, will you?" He motions at the mattress, giving me a pointed look. "We did the laundry two days ago for god's sake."

"Fine," I reply back. "It's too hot for blankets though."

He raises an eyebrow. "Then why do you climb under my covers every night?"

I groan. "Ugh, just go already!" I wave my hand in a shoo'ing motion, and he snickers before obeying. I hear the front door close a few seconds later, and reluctantly get off the blankets and begin the process of laying them across the bed. They end up crooked in the end, but they're off the floor at least. Then I take a seat and cross my legs.

Carefully I pull at my chakra, flexing my fingers uncomfortably. Wisps shoot through the air, one flying close to my eye, but I force myself to ignore them, instead scrunching my face up and pulling at it a bit more.

Then, I smack my hand against the wall and yank.

It doesn't come off.

Ignoring the twinge of pain — I probably didn't need to hit the wall so hard —, I grin. I cut the flow immediately, though it takes a second of tugging before I can actually detach my palm from the wall.

I've been working on figuring out how exactly to work chakra for awhile now; it's completely foreign, but at the same time it somehow feels … natural. Comforting, even. So, while it's fairly easy to find and manipulate, actually doing anything with it feels strange — it's hard to explain.

You kind of need to experience it yourself to understand.

Apparently the easiest way to gain control of chakra is through meditation; Genma told me this a little bit after _that_ conversation, but the idea of something going wrong is too terrifying and I'm unwilling to try it. I'd rather work myself to the bone learning to spar than meditate and risk forgetting something important.

Meditating would also help increase my chakra amounts — which are just a bit more than what's necessary to keep me alive — , but like I said; not willing to risk it at this point.

I steeple my fingers, letting a little bit more chakra flow out of the appendages so they stick together. They don't pull apart when I tug, and the sensation is similar to a finger trap.

… Speaking of finger traps, do they even have those here?

The front door opens and I quickly stop what I'm doing, cracking my knuckles stiffly before heading out to meet my brother. "Hey — wanna see something cool?"

His senbon tips in response and I hold out my hand to him. He stares at it wordlessly, raising an eyebrow, and I roll my eyes. "C'mon, take it."

Somewhat cautiously — I can't help but feel a bit offended; what does he think I'm going to do, shoot weapons from my flesh? — he takes it, and immediately the chakra sticks our hands together. I pull my hand back and his follows.

"Hehe." I giggle, a grin lighting up across my face. "Cool, right? It's like a frog!" I cut the flow again, ignoring how my vision swims for a few seconds. "Or a spider — what if I managed to climb all the way to the top?"

I point up at the ceiling in emphasis, and Genma spares a glance at it before responding, "You'd probably fall off."

"I bet not," I argue. "Wanna see me try?"

I take a step towards the wall, only to be stopped when Genma scoops me up by the arms and lifts me up; he's done that three separate times today, and to be honest I'm starting to get irritated.

"Don't even try," he says firmly. "You don't know how to fall properly; you'll just land on your head."

"Then teach me."

He hefts me under his arm — would this count as four, or is it still three since he never put me down? —, his hand crushing against my rib cage. I wiggle uncomfortably, trying to at least find a position that doesn't hurt so badly, but Genma simply ignores me. He drops me on his bed, and he takes a seat across from me, his eyes uncharacteristically serious.

"So," he starts, when I've made myself comfortable. "You've figured out how to use chakra, then?"

I nod, leaning back against his pillows. "To be honest, it's probably best for you to start meditating or something —" my heart skips a beat, and I draw my hands into fists to keep them from shaking, "—but I don't know if you have the patience for that yet."

"Nope!" I chirp, ignoring the slight tremble in my voice. "I can't do that kinda stuff — it's too boring to just sit around."

He raises an eyebrow. "Really."

I laugh nervously and nod. "I-I'd rather just work on kanji — can't you show me how to write my name already? I already know hiragana and katakana already; if you're gonna make me wait to train, you should at least teach me to write more."

My voice stutters more often than I'd like, and I curse myself internally. No matter how hard I try to suppress it, the thought of forgetting or entering that _place_ again makes me feel sick. I got lucky and managed to get out of there without forgetting too much, but what if I'm not so lucky this time? What if I meditate and forget something important?

I can't forget. I _can't forget;_ I might as well just die. It'd be the same thing anyways.

Thankfully Genma ignores it, instead fixing me with a strange expression. His senbon flicks across his mouth a few times before he finally says, "If you'd really prefer that …" He sighs, running a hand through his bangs. "Man, you're a weird kid. With how excited you were about training, I expected you to immediately agree."

"To meditate?" I ask, somewhat incredulously. "That's nothing like weapons and fighting though."

Genma scoffs, removing his senbon from his mouth and twirling it around his fingers. "If you never meditate or learn to control your chakra, you'll have a lot of trouble as a ninja, Nagisa."

"You said your genin teammate just does taijutsu," I point out, crossing my arms. "Obviously he's a ninja as well."

"Which he uses chakra to enhance," Genma responds coolly. "And he's not incapable of doing ninjutsu or genjutsu. Just like I'm a ninjutsu specialist; it doesn't mean I'm unable to do other things. It's my specialty."

I squint at him, eyeing the senbon. "You shoot senbon from your mouth. What's that called?"

"Senbonjutsu."

I give him a blank stare, and he chuckles. "Shurikenjutsu," he tells me, a grin stretched across his lips. "It's a subcategory of bukijutsu, which is weapon usage in general."

Weapons, huh? Maybe I could specialize in that; it shouldn't require too much chakra to throw a kunai, right?

… Then again, I'm going to be in the same (general) age range as Tenten, right? Weapons are kind of her thing, but considering I'm older than her I could still go for it. Use a bunch of scrolls to hoard weapons and unleash them all at once.

That's a lot of work, though. A lot of calculations to do in a split second —

Yeah, no. Definitely not going to mess with massive amounts of weapons. There's just no way I'll be able to calculate what I need in the amount of time I'll have, and I'm not going to go flinging a dozen or two dozen weapons without some calculations to back it up.

"Either way," Genma starts, the senbon back in his mouth now, "if you don't want to meditate that's fine; but you'll have to eventually." He waves me off the bed, motioning towards the door. " _Before_ you turn four."

I blow out a breath, eyebrows furrowing. "Fine," I mumble, resisting the urge to argue that he can't make me do it. "I don't wanna, though."

He doesn't mention the topic again, but I don't miss the scrutinizing look he gives me as I leave.

* * *

 ***Nagisa was using the formal version of 'older brother' rather than the informal term she usually uses.**

 **A/N: As I mentioned at the top, I've already finished the next two chapters and started the third; that's part of the reason why this update took so long. The other part is because I started college and I'm really freaking busy; I have another story I'm actively updating, and then a third one that I'm working on (but haven't uploaded yet).**

 **On another note, Genma is really hard to write. He doesn't appear in many episodes, and what we do see is purely professional. I have an idea of what he's like, but getting it down on paper is hard; especially when Nagisa is so young. He's supposed to be clever and calm but when you're taking care of a young child who acts like Nagisa, it's not always that easy; she's smart, but also a ton of work.**

 **A lot of stories portray him as a playboy and I'm not entirely sure if I agree with that kind of view. Even if I decide to take elements of that, he's never going to act that way towards Nagisa and I highly doubt he'd want her to see him acting like that.**

 **Anyways, sorry for going off topic a bit; this chapter was just really hard and I'm not very happy with it. His levels of snark will pick up eventually though. Please feel free to point out if it seems I made him out of character at all; like I just said, he's a work in progress.**

 **Thanks for reading! Please review, let me know what you liked, disliked; any kind of feedback is appreciated!**


	3. Pre-Academy: Chapter 2

**Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto**

 **More filler. Yay. There are a few Japanese words, so I'll put the meanings up here and at the bottom as well.**

 ***Moku: Forest**

 ***Ki: Tree**

 ***Utsu: Depression, but it can also mean to strike (a clock) or to hit.**

* * *

My brother's nineteenth birthday comes out of nowhere, and before I know it I'm staring down at the calendar, the date reading July 17th. Due to being only three (and six months), I obviously have no means of getting money to buy him anything which … kind of sucks, to be honest. He takes care of me and buys me things, and I can't even return the favour with a birthday gift.

I expected to feel guilty about it; that's just become normal now, to feel guilty over being so inactive and unhelpful. It's something that I can't really _do_ anything about, which sucks, so I've just decided to make up for all the years when I'm in the academy and a Genin.

What I wasn't expecting was to wake up to the sound of rapid, loud pounding at the door. I'd woken up early, unable to sleep for some reason, and wandered into the living room only to fall back asleep on the couch.

Initially, in my groggy state, I consider going to wake Genma up. Immediately I shoot that thought down; if I can't get him anything for his birthday, the least I can do is not wake him up for something stupid like this.

I expected to see a neighbor or even someone lost — living in the civilian housing departments leads to a lot of that unfortunately —; you know, someone _normal._

I did _not_ expect to see a tall — very tall, holy shit I only reach his _hip_ and that's not just because I'm stupidly short; more on that later — man, clad in green spandex and sporting a perfectly straight bowl cut.

I blanch, staring at him in a weird mix of shock and curiosity as my mind puts together who he is. Might Guy; future sensei of Team Guy and apparently a friend of my brother's.

He looks down at me, his expression one of surprise for only a brief moment before a bright grin replaces it. "Hello!" He greets, ignoring my befuddled expression. "Why, you must be young Nagisa —"

"Who are you?" I interrupt, resisting the urge to slam the door shut and wake Genma up to deal with this. "Um — I'm not, uh, supposed to talk to strangers."

I don't think Genma has ever explicitly told me that; Konoha is generally pretty safe, and it's not like I ever actually go out on my own, but I can't think of any response to his enthusiasm.

"I am Might Guy!" He announces, "Konoha's —"

"Gai, why are you standing in my doorway at seven in the morning?" I look over my shoulder, seeing my brother approach, and immediately I open the door wider, giving Gai space to enter.

Gai steps in fully, allowing me to shut the door and spare us some amount of privacy; the neighbors here are nosy as hell, doubly so because my brother is a ninja. "Because it is your birthday, of course! And so, I have come to invite you to join me for the second half of my morning regimen!"

Genma nods, his trademark senbon already resting in his mouth and his hands in his pockets. "It's nice of you to offer, Gai, but I'll have to pass." He motions his head at me and says, "Nagisa's too young to leave alone in the morning."

 _Lies,_ I think. Before anyone can speak, I ask, "Big brother, who's this?"

"This is Gai," he introduces, nodding in Gai's direction, "he's a friend, and one of my Genin teammates."

I blink. "Genin teammates? Is he the one who graduated really young?"

"That's right." The senbon flicks up, and when I trot over to his side he allows me to drag his hand from his pocket and cling to it. I give Gai a look over, frowning a bit. Besides looking younger by a few years, Gai looks the exact same as he does in the anime. He has a really big nose though, which I don't remember being so large in the show.

I never realized he was a prodigy outside of taijutsu, honestly; then again, to graduate at _seven_ I guess you have to be.

Immediately a wave of jealousy smashes into me and I scrunch my nose up. "Gai-san," I start, tilting my head back so I can look at him. "Did you train a lot to graduate early?"

Genma's hand twitches in my hold, and I hold onto it tighter. Before either of them can say anything I continue with, "Did you start training real early?"

"Gai," Genma says, wrapping his hand around mine. I wait for him to say something else, but he's silent.

Gai looks between the two of us, and a spark lights in his eyes. "Well —" he stands up a bit straighter, flashing me a grin, "it does not matter how early you start; hard work and determination is what makes a good ninja." He strikes his _'_ _nice guy_ ' pose, teeth pinging. "Speaking of which; Genma, have you started your sister on any exercises yet?"

"Only stretching. I was going to start her on meditation soon, though." He looks down at me for a moment before returning his gaze to Gai. "She's just about old enough to begin other exercises as well."

"Excellent!" I jump at the booming exclamation, but Gai doesn't notice. "If you ever require any assistance, I am always free to help a blossoming flower of Konoha!"

"Heh," Genma grins, and I quickly release his hand so that I can move away, "Gai, we both know that Chakra exercises aren't really your thing; but thanks. Have you visited Aoba lately?"

Out of respect I decide to retreat to my room to get dressed while they finish their conversation. It's always a bit jarring to see my brother interact with others; he's more … lively?

I don't know if that's really the _best_ way to describe it, but it's the only word that comes to mind. He jokes with his friends and other adults; he's sarcastic and honestly kind of a smart-ass at times.

Never to me, though. I don't know why.

I take a detour to the marking, glaring angrily at it. Genma said that I should be about this height by the time I turn four and yet, despite being only six months away from turning four, I'm still at least seven centimeters short of the line. While I'm not really bothered about my height, it does worry me.

What if Genma pushes back training me because I'm still too small?

I shake my head, turning on my heel and heading into my own room to change. If he tries that, I'll just be forced to remind him that he _said_ I could when I turned four; even if I have to be a brat about it. If I have to wait any longer, I might just have a stress-related heart attack.

By the time I exit the room more than a few minutes have passed, and I make a short detour to the bathroom to run a brush through my hair. My bangs are starting to grow out, almost a perfect mimicry of my brother's, and my hair is steadily getting longer. It's already down to my neck.

I grab a pink clip off the counter before hopping off the stool and returning to the living room. Gai and Genma are still chatting, though they've moved it away from the doorway and into the living area. I climb onto the couch beside my brother, patting his hair down so I can clip the barrette into his hair. He allows me to do so, and when I finish I lean back against his side and stare at Gai.

Thankfully their conversation draws to a close a few seconds later, and after Gai is gone Genma returns to the couch.

"Are you gonna go out with your friend for your birthday?" I ask. "You should let me make you a cake."

Genma adjusts the clip with a shrug. "Do you even know how to bake?"

"Nnnoo," I draw the word out, "but I can read?"

Genma chuckles, shaking his head. "I was actually telling Gai before he left that'd I would join him and Aoba tonight."

"You're gonna go drinking?" I blurt out. "Isn't that dangerous?"

My brother coughs in surprise, quickly recovering with, "What kind of question is _that?"_

"Am I right?" I press, lips curling into a frown. "Big brother—?"

He immediately ruffles my hair roughly, purposely messing it up before getting to his feet. "Don't go worrying yourself over things like that, kid."

"Neh." I stick my tongue out. "I'm not a kid."

"Your age disagrees," he responds, heading into the kitchen. I kick my feet restlessly before hopping off the couch and following him.

"Are you just gonna go tonight?" I ask, sitting down at the table and leaning my chin into my palm. "Or you leaving before that?"

"Just tonight," he confirms as he removes leftovers from the fridge. "You don't mind, right? I didn't put in a mission request."

I nod. "Don't worry, brother — it'll be fine." Even if I did, it wouldn't matter; mission requests need to be submitted at least a day before the expected date. I wouldn't be able to get Genin babysitters tonight either way.

"Yeah, I thought so. You've been asking to stay alone for awhile anyways."

I giggle slightly. "I'm a big kid now, y'know? You don't gotta baby me."

In reality, I've been asking to stay by myself so I can finally redo the calculations on paper. Genma knocks before coming in, but he'll get suspicious if he comes in and finds me doing complex — at least for someone my age — math; It's just safer to wait until I'm alone. Waiting so long to redo them has been somewhat nerve wracking, but it's allowed me to gain more information for the calculations. They'll be more accurate this time.

… Also, I know where he keeps his extra weapons, and there's no way that I'm going to get to look through those while he's home. Call me irresponsible, but I've been meaning to get a closer look kunai and senbon for awhile and I'm not dumb enough to try and suck on them or something.

Genma chuckles in amusement, shaking his head. "Most people would scold me for allowing you to stay by yourself, you know."

"So?" I stretch my arms above my head, stretching my back out. "Since when did you care what others think?"

He shrugs, bringing over two bowls and placing one down in front of me. "I don't. Anyways, let's eat."

I take the chopsticks offered with a quick, "Itadakimasu!" before eating.

"So," Genma starts, after about a minute of silence has passed between us, "have you been practicing the kanji I showed you last week?"

I blink, bringing a hand up to cover my mouth as I reply, "The twelve stroke one? Um — that was, uh, _mori*_ right?" He nods, and I place my chopsticks down for a moment. "That was too easy, brother — it's just three _ki*_ together. I really only need to know one kanji to write it properly."

"If you're going to complain about it so much, then I'll make you learn more," he threatens. "We'll be going out after breakfast, so we'll pick up a kanji book for you."

I frown, furrowing my eyebrows. "But it's your birthday — you can't buy me stuff on your birthday."

"Why not?" He asks, and I roll my eyes. "If you need something, you need it; regardless of the date."

"But it's your _birthday_ ," I stress. "I'm supposed to buy you stuff, not the other way around."

Genma shrugs. "If it really bothers you that much, then just think of it as an early birthday present."

"You're impossible," I mumble with a groan. "When I have my own money, I'm gonna buy you a ton of gifts to make up for it."

A short bark of laughter escapes his throat. "If it makes you feel better," he responds, an amused smile stretched across his lips.

"It does," I confirm. A few seconds pass before I change the subject, asking, "What's the biggest kanji you know?"

"Biggest?" He repeats. "Do you mean the most amount of strokes?"

I nod, and Genma goes silent for a few seconds before finally answering, " _Utsu*."_

"Hit?" I ask, and he shakes his head.

"No; depression. For example … 'Thinking about guarding the Daimyo's palace again fills me with depression'," he states. "Do you understand it now?"

I nod. "It's being sad." I furrow my eyebrows in thought; that's not a character I ever bothered to learn back on Earth. "How many does it have?"

"Twenty nine." My eyes widen, and if I had anything in my mouth I'd probably choke on it. Twenty _nine?_ How the hell does he remember that many strokes?

Cautiously I take another bite, making sure to chew it and swallow before asking, "How do you _remember_ that?"

"Ah —" he looks a bit sheepish, and he brings his empty bowl to the sink as he answers, "Gai used to challenge me to kanji competitions to see who could write the most difficult kanji, so I had mom teach me it so he'd leave me alone about it." He chuckles as he washes the dish out. "She loved calligraphy."

"Mom did?" I ask, getting down from the table so I can hand my own bowl to him. I didn't finish all of it, but Genma does have a bad habit of giving me too much food. "That sounds like too much work."

Genma nods. "It's difficult, but she was always happy when I'd replicate what she taught me, so I didn't mind."

"I wish mom could've taught me kanji," I say quietly, leaning back against the kitchen counter while he finishes the dishes. "Mom was a ninja too, right?"

"That's right," he replies. "Why?"

Memories of her dressed in a flak vest rush past my eyes, and despite nearly two years passing since then I can't help but feel somewhat sad. I curl my hands into fists, nails digging into the flesh of my palm, and push back those feelings. "… Just wondering."

Genma hums, drying his hands off on the dish towel. "We'll leave after I get dressed," he states. I follow him down the hallway, snatching the brush from the bathroom before following him into his room. He raises an eyebrow in surprise when I jump on the bed. "Do you need something?"

"Just waiting," I reply. Genma shrugs wordlessly, pulling his tank top over his head. I gaze at the large scar on his side, a frown resting on my lips. "Where's that scar from?"

He glances over his shoulder at me, as if to ask, 'which one?', and I point at it. "The one on your side."

"Didn't block a sword in time," he admits, before pulling the standard Jounin shirt over his head. "Not one of my prouder moments."

"Ouch," I mumble. "You have a lot of scars."

He finishes getting dressed, grabbing the headband from his dresser and tying it around his head. "Just part of the job," he responds. "War is messy business."

War.

 _Ugh._ I shiver at the thought, brushing out my hair again in an attempt to fix how he messed it up earlier. Will I end up with scars like that? Even if I don't live to the war that's supposed to start in however many years, it's doubtful that I'll be able to avoid getting any scars before then. Even in my past life, I had scars before I left elementary school.

Genma offers his hand to me, and I notice the clip resting on his outstretched palm. I take it silently, putting it in my own hair before taking his hand and allowing him to lead me out of the room.

"I'll be four soon," I start, when we pass the mark on the wall. "Only six more months. You remember your promise, right?"

His senbon flicks. "I do."

I nod at his response. "What do you think I'll be good at?"

He blinks in surprise, before responding, "I honestly don't know, Nagisa. You're patient, so you definitely seem like you'd be good with chakra control, and good chakra control can lead to many different paths. But you're also unwilling to meditate."

I ignore the last part, instead asking, "You're good at ninjutsu, right? And, uh — shurikenjutsu?"

"Yeah." I release his hand to put my sandals on, and Genma does the same. "You remember what ninjutsu is, right?"

I roll my eyes. "Of course I do," I respond. "It's everything that isn't genjutsu or taijutsu."

He pauses. "Well," he starts, somewhat amused, "you're not wrong."

I giggle. "I have good memory, brother — I'll never forget anything you tell me!"

"Oh, really?" He raises an eyebrow, opening the front door. "Want to test that?"

I follow him out, watching him lock the door. "You don't gotta test it," I reply, sniffing. "It's true — I _won't forget."_

"Hm." He taps his weapon pouch for a moment, before saying, "I believe you, but wouldn't it be fun to find out how good your memory actually is?"

Frowning, I look up at the sky before reluctantly nodding my head, ignoring the uncomfortable churning in my gut. "… I guess."

He motions at the number plate beside our door. "104," he tells me. "Remember that."

"That's too easy," I grumble, puffing my cheeks out. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Just start off small," he replies, his tone unchanging despite my annoyance. "If you can remember that, we'll try something bigger."

My frown grows. "Fine," I reluctantly agree. "Only to prove I'm not stupid."

He shakes his head, a frown curled around the senbon. "What it is with you and being stupid?" He asks, as we descend the steps and head further into the village. "You haven't even had a chance to _be_ stupid yet."

"I messed up writing my name," I point out. "That's stupid. And now you're making me remember something easy like 104 — it's just one number, nothing hard."

He gives me an odd look. "What would you consider a good challenge, then?"

I shrug. Genma greets one of the neighbors, and I stare at them before returning my attention to him. "If you told me to remember a bunch of things; like ten of one thing, eight of another, twenty nine of a third one …"

"Why don't you remember this correctly and I'll give you something harder?" He offers. "Start off small; it's good practice."

I stick my tongue out at him, ignoring the tightness in my chest. "I already said I would."

104, 104, 104 — honestly, that's just too easy. He really must think I'm an idiot. I remembered far harder things at once for far longer in the white world —

A sharp pain shoots across the back of my eyes and I wince, inhaling sharply. The spot pulsates, sending tiny dots across my vision, and I clutch Genma's hand harder to keep my balance. He glances down at me in concern.

"What's wrong?"

I shake my head. "I, uh — tripped," I lie. I glare over my shoulder in mock anger, hoping that he won't bring up how tightly I'm holding his hand. "S-So — where're we going?"

"Kanji books," he responds. "Didn't you say you wouldn't forget anything? I told you this earlier."

I swallow dryly, ignoring how my heart begins to pound. "Uh — well, I-I didn't forget," I reply quickly, stumbling slightly over my words. "I just — um, I thought we were doing other stuff too."

He frowns, his eyes narrowing momentarily. "If you're sure," he replies with a half-shrug. "It's not a big deal if you did forget, you know. That's just how the brain works. You can't remember everything.

 _Try me,_ I think in response. I don't voice that thought.

* * *

"104," I rattle off as we leave the store and begin walking back to the apartment, "See? Told you I could remember it."

He pats my head. "Not bad; I guess you can remember harder things then." He hands one of the bags to me and I wack his leg with it. He ignores it. "So then, let's try this — I'll give you an example like you asked for earlier."

"There are seven kunai, twelve shuriken, and eighteen senbon in my weapon pouch," he rattles off. "You think you can remember that?"

I grin. "Of course I can. Wanna see?"

He shakes his head. "Later. For now, let's get home — I'll help you read through one of the books we bought."

"It's just a kanji book," I point out. "What kind of help will I need with _that?"_

"Maybe none," he replies back. "We'll just have to wait and see."

As it turns out, I don't need his help with the kanji book. They're all incredibly easy kanji, and I recognize every single one of them.

… Well, almost. There are a few that are completely lost on me, but overall it's slightly disappointing. I was hoping for something a bit more challenging. Then again, this book is made for 5 year olds, so … I really don't know why I expected otherwise.

"Write out your name again?" Genma tells me, and I do so.

Nagisa, meaning beach, has 11 strokes total. Genma taught me it about a month back, despite me requesting him to teach me it all the way back when I was two, and as embarrassing as it is to admit, I completely butchered it when I first tried to copy what he wrote.

Despite knowing the kanji for my name, though, apparently the amount of times I'll actually use it are very low. Pretty much all ninja keep their personal kanji to themselves, using either Katakana or Hiragana (depending on the person and/or name) instead. It has something to do with security apparently, so the only time you'll see a ninja write their first name in kanji is during marriage, a rank exam (like the Chunin Exams for example), or when requested to do so. Last names on the other hand are almost always written in kanji; it has something to do with clans.

A fun fact; Nagisa means beach and Shiranui means something like sea fire or will-o-wisp. Two sea related names for me; I'm not sure what Genma means, though.

"I'm bored," I groan, flopping back onto the floor. "Can't I do something else?"

Genma watches in amusement. "Have you been working on hand seals?" He asks, and I wave my hand in a 'so-so' motion.

"I'm having some trouble with a couple," I admit. "Help me?"

"Sure," he agrees. "Start running through them; I'll be back in a minute."

He gets up, heading towards his room, and I sigh, reluctantly sitting up and folding my hands into monkey and beginning. "Monkey, rat, snake, tiger, dog, hare … ox?" I guess, staring at my hands for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, I'm right. Uh … hm …" I frown, unable to remember what ram looks like. "Hey, Genma!" I call out. "What does ram look like!?"

There's a pause, and then he calls back, "Like tiger, but with the left hand on top of the right and folded fingers."

"Thanks!" I call back after I've done the seal to check. I redo ox, and then follow it up with ram and dragon, and then finally boar.

"Just horse and bird left," I note with a grimace. Bird is painful, and horse is giving me far more trouble than it should be _._ "Ugh … brother, hurry up already!"

I attempt horse, but end up struggling to get my fingers to go together properly. I don't even bother with bird.

Genma returns a minute later and I glare. "About time," I mumble, before asking louder, "can you help me now?"

He drops the scrolls he's holding on the table, dropping down on the couch above me. I scramble up onto it. "With?"

"Bird and horse." I form the horse sign first. "It feels weird and awkward and wrong."

He takes my hands in his, maneuvering my fingers and wrists gently, until it doesn't feel as uncomfortable. "Elbows out," he points out before letting go. "Keep your pointer fingers straight."

I stare at my hands for a moment before unfolding them and attempting to recreate how he did it. It's easier, this time, and I grin. "Thanks, brother."

"Now, show me bird so I can see what you're doing wrong."

I do so, my movement slow and hesitant, and Genma nods. "Alright; move your thumbs down."

"Like this?" I ask. He nods again.

"Fingertips together."

I huff, trying my best to stop my hands from shaking. "Ugh … this is stupid," I grumble. "I can't get it right. How can anyone do this without messing it up?"

"Practice," Genma replies. He reaches over to the table and picks up the scroll. "If you keep doing it correctly, eventually it'll get easier. Come on, try again."

I do so reluctantly, sighing. "My fingers just get tangled up … would it be a big deal if I just —" I simply meet my curled fingers at the knuckle, "—just do this instead?"

He takes a single, brief glance at my hands before answering, "Nope." Once again he adjusts my hands, saying, "You might be able to get away with not curling them so much, though."

After yet another failure I give up, instead deciding to work with some dexterity games. I lay my palms flat on my thigh, lifting each finger slowly without disturbing or lifting any of the others. The fourth finger is the hardest, and I'm still trying to get to the point where I can do it without having to force my adjacent fingers still. I do them in order first, moving onto a different pattern after four or five of those ones.

Speaking of fingers, that reminds me …

"Hey, Genma." He glances down at me, and I curl my middle finger. "Did'ja know that if you bend your middle finger, the fourth one can't move up?"

He copies my motion. "Huh. Interesting," he responds. "Any other fingers like that?"

I hum. "Not that make it super hard like that," I reply, "but if you bend your pointer finger, then it's a little harder to lift the middle finger. But not impossible."

If I remember right, it has to do with the tendons in the middle and ring finger being connected and overlapping. It's been almost four years since I touched an anatomy textbook, though, and tendons were never something I was really informed on in the first place.

I crawl under his arm, settling myself in his lap, and attempt to read off the scroll. Most of it is kanji and/or a mix of hiragana and kanji that I don't recognize or understand off the top of my head. "What're you doing?"

"Reading over a scroll," he replies. "Isn't that obvious?"

I roll my eyes. "It's your birthday silly; you shouldn't be working right now. You gotta relax!"

"Who says I'm working?" He retorts. "For all you know, I enjoy reading scrolls filled with tiny, sloppy writing that didn't dry long enough when written."

I squint up at him and he chuckles. "Relax, Nagisa," he finally starts. "It's not a big deal."

"But —"

"Nagisa," he interrupts, a bit exasperated, "I told you. It's really not a big deal."

I huff in response, crossing my arms over my chest. "Fine," I grumble, "go overworking yourself on your birthday. See if I care."

With that I wiggle out from his lap and head to my room, ignoring the tightness in my chest. A part of me points out that it's hypocritical for me to be so upset at Genma over something stupid like this — my birthdays in my last life were filled with near nonstop studying —, but I ignore it.

My retreat is halted when a hand grasps the back of my shirt, and I glare over my shoulder at my brother. "You know," he starts, releasing my collar when I make no attempt to continue, "for someone who insisted on trying to memorize 80 kanji in a day, you sure have a warped perspective on 'overworking'."

"It's not my birthday," I bite back. "If it was —"

"You'd be doing even more than I am," he responds. "Remember your birthday?"

Of course I did. I locked myself in my room all morning and forced my way through five books despite them all being a bit above my current reading level, and then demanded Genma help me memorize the more difficult words I stumbled across.

It sucked, but that was different; _I w_ as different. I've already lived through plenty of birthdays, thanks to being reincarnated, while my brother _hasn't._ He's only nineteen, not —

 _Twenty two,_ I realize, with a start. _I'll be twenty two in January._

Well.

If that doesn't make me feel sick, I don't know what does.

"Seven," I mumble, forcing my voice not to tremble. "Seven kunai, twelve shuriken, and — and eighteen senbon." Behind my back, my hands are shaking, and I look up at my brother before averting my gaze to the wall. "I told you I'd remember."

I take off down the hall and lock my door behind me; Genma doesn't follow. Then I lay down under my covers and hide my face in my pillow, beginning to recite formulas and theories, my lips mouthing the words the whole time.

It feels like only seconds have passed when I hear my door unlocking, but I barely make a note of it, my eyes squeezed shut and lips moving silently, mouthing words in English that I can only remember because of the endless amount of repetition I'd gone through. My grasp of the language itself is practically gone though, and I consider digging through my memories and attempting to teach myself it again when my blanket is removed from my head.

"Nagisa." Genma sighs. "Come on; I know you're not asleep."

 _Sin of x is equal to negative cosine x plus c; cosine of x is equal to sin of x plus c. Sin of 2 theta is equal to 2 sin theta cosine theta. Cosine of 2 theta is equal to cosine squared theta minus sin squared theta, or 2 cosine squared theta minus on, or 1 minus 2 sin squared theta —_

"You've been laying here for hours," Genma says again, and I blink my eyes open sluggishly, formulas still buzzing in my brain. "I'll be leaving in a bit; don't you want to eat?"

I push myself up, taking a look around the room — no, my room; this is my room. What was I doing?

There's a dip on the bed, and a hand brushes my hair from my eyes. "You alright?" He asks, and I rub my eyes with my fist. "You weren't asleep, were you?"

"Uh …" I shake my head. "… It was only a few minutes."

"Try a few hours." Genma frowns, pressing his hand to my forehead. "You're not feverish — do you want to eat?"

I shrug, torn between being exhausted and upset that I couldn't finish with those formulas for … was it the fifth repetition? Either way, I still had half angle and sum/difference formulas to go through again and —

"I guess so," I finally answer, sliding off the bed. My eyebrows furrow. "What day is it?"

Genma's eyebrows raise. "Wow," he notes, his senbon flicking, "you really are out of it; it's July 17th."

July 17th —

 _Oh shit._

It shakes me from my daze, and I blow out a breath as I pass through the door. "You were studying."

"Not studying," Genma corrects, "reading. Even old people like me need to learn new things occasionally."

I scrunch my nose up. "You're not old though. You're only nineteen."

 _And I'm almost twenty two._ I swallow dryly at that thought, suddenly remembering why exactly I'd retreated to my room in the first place. _And I can't even drink._

I stare at the marking on the wall, and Genma leans against the threshold, waiting for me patiently. "How tall are you?" I ask suddenly.

"179 centimeters," he replies. "Why?"

I ignore his question. "What about mom? How tall was she?"

"163 centimeters, I think." His answer comes after a slight pause. I nod.

"And dad?"

"Where are you getting with this?" He asks. I stand on my tiptoes, but I'm still not at the mark.

I sigh, falling back onto my heels. "I'm not tall," I say softly. "You are, but I'm too little. Why aren't I tall?"

"Well, I'm fifteen years older than you," Genma points out. "You've still got a long ways to go in terms of growing."

I scrunch my nose up in thought. "You're still much taller than mom was," I point out. "Why? Was dad tall?"

"My dad was," he replies. "Yours wasn't."

I blink. Then I blink again.

"We have different dads?" I ask, and while I'm surprised, it's not a complete shock; our eye colours are different, and mom had green eyes — Genma has brown, and mine are blue.

If I remember biology right (and I _should_ ), a parent with brown eyes and a parent with green eyes has a 50% chance of a brown eyed child, but less than 20% chance of a blue eyed child. Both parents having blue eyes yields the highest chance of a blue eyed child (since blue is the recessive gene I believe), but blue eyes and green eyes have a 50-50 chance of either blue or green eyes.

So, logically, considering our eye colours, it makes sense for our father's to be different, but I'd never really _thought_ about it.

"That doesn't mean you're not my sister, though," he tells me, before ushering me towards the kitchen. "Come on, let's eat."

By the time we finish dinner and dishes — we finally got a stool so I can actually reach the sink and drying rack — it's nearly seven. The leftovers are already in the fridge, and I wipe my hands on my shirt, hopping off the stool. "Are you gonna go?"

"Hm? In a few minutes."

While he's putting his shoes on, I double check that the stove is off. "I won't be back before you fall asleep, so don't wait up, alright?"

"OK." I offer a wave to him as he goes. "Have fun, be safe — and — happy birthday, big brother."

He waves back, and when the door locks into place I sigh. I wait a few seconds to make sure he's actually gone before I head to my room, flicking the lights off as I go. I turn my lamp on before turning off my own room light, grabbing my notebook off my bed and sitting down at the low table in my room, and begin my calculations.

I have ten years to train — 3,650 days times 24 hours …

 _87,600_ _hours._

I do my best to keep my hand steady as I write. Thankfully, my handwriting has gotten a lot better in the last few months, and although I'm still not satisfied with it, it isn't totally abhorrent anymore.

If I do 7 hours of training a week between ages 4 and 5 ( _364 hours_ ) and 15 hours a week from age 5 to 6 ( _780 hours_ ), I'll have approximately 1,144 hours of training done before I start the academy.

According to Genma, Academy classes last from nine in the morning to five in the afternoon (7 hours a day, six days a week — 42 hours a week), from April to March, with a total of about a month and a half of vacation during the year (10.5 months, an average 30 days per month — 315 days … 2,205 hours). Assuming I graduate between ten and twelve years old, I'll have anywhere from 8,820 to 13,230 for those years. It's fair to consider a third of them as being practical training, so from 2,940 to 4,410 hours. I can also probably do the same amount of individual training as before, so 6,060 to 8,820 hours of training total from my Academy years.

As a Genin, I'll be able to train for even longer; assuming I'll probably spend at least two or three hours doing missions when I begin —

 _14-21 x 4_

 _56-84 hours (+)_

Three hours training with a team a day—

 _104-208 x 21_

 _2,184-4,368 hours (+)_

Two hours of individual training —

 _104-208 x 14_

 _1,456-2,912 hours (+)_

Not factoring in any missions outside the village (because, unfortunately, those are impossible to predict), that means I'll have approximately

hours of training during my Genin years, excluding missions.

Leading to a total of … 13,660 to 14,568 hours, with the first number being if I graduate at 12 and the second if I graduate at 10.

… 1.559 to 1.663 years.

The only thing that keeps my heart from plummeting is the fact that I can't factor in all the missions that I'll go on during that time period. The numbers will inevitably go up, especially if I graduate at 10 instead of 12 like most ninja will.

I rub my head in discomfort, a headache burning its way through my brain. A four year old's brain is just not meant to do that much math. I glance down at my paper, grimacing at the messy scrawls of numbers across the page and my awful attempts at grouping them together.

I need to graduate at 10; that's the same age my brother graduated the academy. It shouldn't be impossible, especially because I only really have to worry about learning the practical skills; ninjutsu, taijutsu, and genjutsu, that is.

Kunai and shuriken will fit into the taijutsu part I imagine, but I'm going to majorly suck at that.

I tear my calculations out of my notebook, folding it over and over again until it's small enough for me to shred. Then I take the pieces and crumple them in my hand, moving to my dresser. With my free hand I yank open the bottom drawer, shoving aside the folded clothes in there and dumping the scraps in the very back corner. I cover it up with the yukata there, making sure to arrange everything nice and neat like it was earlier before closing the drawer.

Then, I move into my brother's room.

I keep away from the table despite it being clear at the moment. Genma works on poisons there, and the last thing I need to do is accidentally ingest it and die or something awful like that. Even if I didn't die from it, Genma would inevitably find out and know I was going through his things and —

Well, that's not something I want him knowing.

His closet is arranged neatly, and it's easy to locate the box on the floor, right next to the sharpening stone. I remove the top, reaching in and grasping at the hilt of a single kunai.

It's … bigger than expected to be completely honest. I take a shuriken as well before putting the top back on and exiting the closet, weapons clutched between my fist. "Nice," I mutter, as I slide back into my own room and onto the bed. I drop the kunai on my bed, running my fingers across the top of the shuriken. My thumb slips along the side, and almost immediately the skin is sliced open. A trail of blood leaks down, dripping onto my leg, and I wince, dropping the weapon quickly.

I shove my finger into my mouth.

At least I know it's sharp.

Probably ten seconds later I pull my finger out of my mouth, reaching down to grasp the handle of the kunai but keeping my fingers away from the edge. I attempt to twirl it like I've seen Genma do so many times, but it practically flies off my finger instead.

I adjust my hold on the handle before raising my arm and flinging it towards the other side of the room. Despite throwing it nearly as hard as I could it doesn't go very far, instead clattering to the ground before reaching the wall. I retrieve it and try again.

Once again, it falls short, and I sigh. I don't bother messing with the shuriken; it's not as heavy as the kunai, but it reminds me of a frisbe and I'm not in the mood to throw it around my room. I stash beside the paper shreds in my dresser, wrapping the weapons in an old undershirt so they don't destroy the yukata hiding them.

I make a detour into the kitchen to get something to drink, noticing the time as I do so; it's already past eight. I leave the cup in my room before heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth, examining the cut on my finger as I do so.

It's not deep, thankfully, but it's fairly long and obvious. I bend the finger, half expecting for the cut to begin bleeding again, and when it doesn't I sigh in relief. It's in a bit of a painful place, but if I don't bring any attention to it I can probably keep Genma from noticing.

I read through one of my books while laying down in bed, reading aloud the first few pages. It only takes about two minutes to finish reading — I've read this particular book so many times that I've practically memorized it — and I reach for a more difficult one next.

Three books later I yawn, my eyes heavy. I finish the last few pages, blinking rapidly to try and keep from dozing off, and then I move back to the living room to retrieve the kanji book and my notebook. It's fifteen minutes past nine.

"Not now," I mumble to myself as I drop it on the table in my room. "Later … I should sleep."

I kick my covers back, flipping the light off and laying back. Disturbed only by the sliver of moonlight shining in from my window, the darkness swamps the room. I pull my blankets up to my chin, rolling on my side and grasping the stuffed bear under my arm, and then begin my repetitions.

 _Sin of a/2 is equal to plus or minus the square root of 1 minus cos a divided by 2. Cos of a/2 is equal to plus or minus the square root of 1 plus cos a divided b 2. Tan of a/2_ …

* * *

Five days after my birthday, Genma finally follows through with beginning to train me. Unfortunately, it doesn't come like I expected it to.

"It's time for you to try meditating." My hand freezes mid stroke when he speaks, and I finish the kanji I'm writing before placing my pencil down and turning to face him. He's reading off a scroll; not even looking at me. I swallow dryly.

"Why today?" I ask, ignoring the slight tremble that makes its way down my back. "I thought — you said …"

Genma glances at me momentarily. "Why not?" He shoots back. "I never specified what I'd train you on."

"I wanted to learn ninja stuff …" I mumble back. "Can't we do this some other time?"

"Ninja's meditate, Nagisa," he tells me. "There's no way to get around it. You've already managed to grasp how to use Chakra, which is good — but unless that's all you want to do, you'll have to meditate eventually."

I don't meet his eyes. "I … I — I'd rather run," I say lamely. "Or throw weapons. Or — or make poisons or something. You know, l-like a real ninja. I never see you meditate."

Genma's stare grows hard, and his eyes narrow slightly. "I meditate at night," he responds, "right before going to sleep. I'd be more surprised if you had seen me meditating before."

I whine, resting my cheek on the surface of the table and shutting my eyes. "Some other time? Please?"

"I won't train you in anything else until you've at least attempted." I shoot up at that, eyes wide. "Don't try arguing."

"But — but that's no fair!" I cry back. "You said _—"_

"I _said_ I would train you when you turned four," Genma interrupts. "You're four, and I'm offering to train you. If you'd rather wait, then feel free, but I'm not going to back down."

Tears of anger are brimming at my eyes, and I swallow a lump in my throat, pushing them away. "Not fair," I choke out, clutching my hands into fists. They're shaking. "Genma, please —"

His gaze softens. "You don't need to be afraid," he soothes. "Meditation is the safest thing you'll learn. Throwing weapons, making poisons — they're all far more dangerous than meditation."

I attempt to speak but no words come, and I lower my gaze. A weight has settled on my chest, making it difficult to breathe, and I swallow hard. "Brother …"

"Is there any reason you're so afraid?" Genma asks. "Did someone tell you it's dangerous?"

I look up at him, resting my palms on the table as I speak. "No," I whisper. "I just … I — had a dream," I start reluctantly. "That I … that I was in a big white place. And I was walking for a long time." I swallow again, hands shaking, and try to keep the panic from my voice. "It — I-I couldn't remember my name. Everything was going away.

"I don't want to forget everything," my voice trembles, "and — and if I meditate, then I can't be thinking about stuff, and then I'll forget, and — and I'll die."

I don't look at Genma; I don't want to see the look in his eyes. He must think I'm crazy, or being childish, but — he wouldn't understand. Playing it off as a dream … it's just not the same.

Genma reaches across the table, taking my hands in his own. "Hey," he starts, and I reluctantly meet his eyes. "Do you trust me?"

Slowly, I nod. "… Yeah."

"Then trust me when I say nothing will go wrong." He squeezes my hands reassuringly, and I force back the tears again. "I won't let anything happen to you. Dreams are just dreams."

I exhale shakily. "You promise?"

"You know I don't like to make promises," Genma reminds me, but he nods regardless. "Yes, I promise. And if something somehow does go wrong, you'll be fine. Alright?" I don't respond, instead focusing my gaze on our hands, and he sighs. "Besides, you may have a lot of patience, but you're still a kid; It'll might take a few tries."

… Well now I _have_ to succeed. Great.

"A … Alright," I whisper, after a long pause. "… I'll try. What do I have to do?"

The directions are simple. I listen half-heartedly, only my fear keeping me from ignoring the explanation. "I get it," I mumble, when he asks if I understand. "Do I do it now?"

"Whenever is fine," he replies, but I can tell he's not being entirely honest. If it was up to me, I'd never do this.

I pull my hands away, resting them on my thighs and ignoring how they're trembling, and inhale sharply. I exhale, attempting to keep myself calm. It'll be fine, it'll be fine — Genma's here. He'll keep me from forgetting.

It'll be alright. I'll be fine, I'll be fine. It's fine.

I swallow, shifting and squeezing my eyes together tighter. For a few seconds I just sit like that. One thought; it's training. Just training, to become a ninja, and …

I count my breaths, Genma's words echoing in my mind — just focus on one thing. In, out, in, out …

 _It's fine. I'm fine._

I breathe out. In, out; slowly, the tension drains from my body. For a few seconds, it's actually relaxing; I'm able to forget the nagging fear in the back of my head. Concentrate, concentrate, concentrate —

 _One, two, three …_ _five, six, seven …_

My shoulders relax. The breaths become easier, and I continue to count until —

 _What's my name?_

I jerk violently, immediately snapping from the meditation. My hands fly to my face as I pull inward, desperately begining to recite formulas, dates, locations — everything becomes crammed together and I stop breathing, I stop _existing what's my name what's my name who am I —_

"Nagisa!"

Smaller, smaller — I need to become less. I can't do it, I can't — I don't want to forget, I _can't forget why can't I remember, where am I who am I what's going on —_

Mundane first — you repeat the useless things first, and then the important ones; it helps avoid becoming exhausted, overwhelmed, from forgetting anything important. The date — November? October? — I can't _remember._

Something pulls me away and my eyes fly open, searching for white as a gasp pulls from my throat. Instead I'm met with a face — it's familiar, but I can't put a name to it. Who —

They cup my cheeks carefully, running a hand through my hair while asking various questions in a language I can't remember.

"—…n, come on — Nagisa, relax; _relax._ You're alright. Just breathe."

 _Big brother._

"Genma —" I croak, tears pulling at my eyes. "Y-You — you're here, right? I — I-I'm not dead? I'm still here, right? Right?"

His expression melts into relief, and I quickly wrap my arms around his waist, burying my head in his stomach. His arms loop around my back comfortingly, and I fight back the urge to squeeze him as tight as I can, just to make sure he's _here._

Genma's stiff form relaxes almost immediately, and he sighs shakily. "There you go," he starts, "you're alright, see? You're fine, Nagisa."

"I was disappearing," I whisper, unable to keep the tears from falling. "I — I-I was gonna forget e-everything, and — and —"

Genma hugs me tighter. "You're fine, kid," he repeats. "Say it; you're _fine."_

"I'm fine," I parrot. "I — I'm OK, I'm — I'm not disappearing?"

"You're not disappearing," he confirms, detaching me from him so he can tug at my wet cheek. "See?"

The pain is a welcomed distraction, and I wipe at my eyes, ignoring how my heart is still thrumming harshly in my chest. I say nothing, and Genma watches wordlessly before he gets up. Immediately I jerk to attention, slamming my hand down on the table and attempting to get up to follow him. "Wait —!"

"Relax." He looks slightly startled by my exclamation. "I'm just getting some water for you, alright? Lay down on the couch; I'll be right back."

My throat tightens, and I scramble onto the couch, watching fearfully. I half expect him to dissolve into white — for the entire room to disappear. Every muscle in my body is taunt, ready to leap up and run after him, but I force myself to lean back against the couch, the tears returning with a vengeance. As he moves to the cupboard, removing a mug. A few seconds later he returns, handing me the cup. My hands are shaking harshly, so I place it between my legs, swallowing dryly.

"So," he starts, crouching in front of me. "What happened?"

"What happened?" I repeat, my lip wobbling. "I — i-it went wrong! You said nothing w-would happen."

"From my perspective, nothing happened," Genma states. "Everything was going fine; then, suddenly, your Chakra disappeared." He runs a hand across his face, finishing with, "With how still you got, I couldn't tell if you'd just suppressed it or —"

He cuts himself off, but I can infer the second half on my own. I bring the mug to my lips, taking a drink of water. My throat is dry. Genma watches me carefully before he asks, "So I'll ask again — what happened?"

I keep the mug to my lips for a few seconds after I finish taking a drink, thinking of how to respond. "I … started counting," my voice is wobbling, and I squeeze my eyes shut, holding the mug tighter. "I-In my … dream," I start, "I was c-counting for a long time. And then — then I couldn't remember anything."

My voice is small and I shrink back against the couch, fighting back tears. "When I was count-counting, I tried to remember who I was … and I couldn't."

"I was just trying to be safe," I finish softly, using one hand to wipe at my eyes. "I — … I'm sorry … I-I couldn't do it."

Genma sighs. "Nagisa … you don't have to apologize." He pauses, before asking, "How long ago did you have this dream?"

I look up at him for a moment before dropping my gaze to the mug. "… A long time ago," I answer. "But … I keep dreaming of it since then. Almost … almost every night."

"M-Most of the time I'm OK," I say quickly, desperate to get him to understand, "I — I'm not a baby. But sometimes it's — it's just … worse, sometimes," I finish lamely. "I'm … I'm so stupid."

"Stupid?" Genma nudges my chin up, and reluctantly I meet his eyes. "Everyone has bad dreams. It doesn't make you stupid."

I frown. "I know that," I grumble back. "But I let mine take me over — I let it make me fail." My voice is bitter, and I rub my eyes again. "A ninja … a ninja wouldn't let it affect them like that."

"You're not a ninja, though." Genma gets to his feet, and I crane my neck to look at him. "Not yet. You have plenty of time to learn to deal with it."

I look away, saying nothing. "Anyways," he starts, after a short silence, "are you alright?"

"Uh-huh."

"Today is meat day," he tells me, and I'm thankful for the change in subject. "Why don't we go to the market and buy some for dinner?"

I take another drink of water. "Can we get beef?"

"Sure, why not?" My brother replies, after a moment of thought. "Go wash your face, and we'll go."

I hand him the mug, and watch him bring it into the kitchen before heading to the bathroom to wash my face off.

 _I knew this would happen._

* * *

 **A/N: Uhh. I don't have an excuse except that my hard drive completely blew out, and I have a ton of essays and reports due this month. I'm so, so sorry for the wait. I'm going to try my very hardest to update faster. I hope this chapter was worth it, I don't really have much else to say. Sorry if the math is wrong, I didn't really have the energy to fix it. If anyone notices a mistake in it please tell me and I'll correct it, but I've already gone over it a few times and nothing is coming up incorrect.**

 ***Moku: Forest**

 ***Ki: Tree**

 ***Utsu: Depression, but it can also mean strike (a clock) or hit.**

 **Please review!**


	4. Pre-Academy: Chapter 3

**Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto**

* * *

I breathe in deeply, fisting my hands into the blanket covering my bed. My legs are folded underneath my butt, and I exhale slowly, pushing through the deep rooted panic settled on my chest.

Once more; try again, try again.

I count to three. Then to five, seven — I reach twenty before I attempt to recite.

 _Shiranui Nagisa. Four years old. I have an older brother named Genma._

Twenty five, thirty — forty two.

 _My birthday is January sixteenth. It's currently February twenty second._

Fifty three, fifty nine, sixty five —

 _I live in Konohagakure. My brother is a ninja. I'm training to become a ninja. I have to do this._

My eyes shoot open and I swallow dryly, hands shaking and knuckles turning white from the death grip on my blanket. My eyes are moist, and I rub a fist against them. I'm fine, I'm alright — nothing is going to happen.

"Nagisa?" A knock rings out across the room, and I look up at the noise. "Come on, we're going."

I swallow dryly. "Do we have to?"

"It won't be long," he replies. "We can get taiyaki afterwards if you want."

I stumble my way to the door, my feet tingling from sitting on them for so long, and pull open the door. "It's so dumb though," I argue. "Why won't you let me stay here?"

"Because we're buying _you_ clothes," he replies. "Don't you want some power over what you wear?"

I cross my arms over my chest stubbornly. "I didn't even get much taller," I whine. "I didn't meet the mark. And all I've been doing is trying to meditate — what's the point of getting new clothes?"

"Because you need them."

"Blah." I stick my tongue out at him. "Why don't _you_ buy any new clothes? You need them too."

He ruffles my hair. "Because I'm older."

I exit the room despite my protests, a sigh escaping my lips. "I'm getting better at it."

"Hm?" The senbon flicks upwards. "At meditating?"

"Uh-huh. Can you tell?"

He shrugs. "Why don't you show me later, then?"

I pretend to contemplate it before finally nodding. "Fine. But only if we get dango after!"

"Dango? Didn't you say earlier you wanted to eat taiyaki?" he asks, slightly amused.

I shrug. "I think you're just gettin' old and forgetting stuff, big brother."

"Ah, yes," he agrees, lips quirked into a grin, "before you know it I'll be retired and _you'll_ be taking care of me'"

I scrunch my nose up. "Not _that old."_

The shops aren't too far away from our apartment complex, and I follow after Genma silently, ignoring the twinge of unease resting in my chest.

Despite my claims, meditation hasn't gotten any easier. I can't even do it for more than twenty seconds at a time without having to go over simple facts and information — and while that's still an increase from before, it's also pretty pathetic. Genma was right; I'll make a pretty awful ninja if I can't even comfortably meditate.

Meditation helps chakra control, helps your chakra reserves grow larger — both which are necessary if I ever want to be able to use ninjutsu, walk on water, tree climb …

It's something so _important_ and yet I keep _failing._ Sure, I can cling to the wall and stick my hands to things, but that's not going to matter in the long term. I can do the hand seals all I want, but if I don't even have enough chakra to do the jutsu, I'll be useless. Incapable.

A hand comes to rest on top of my head and I'm jolted from my thoughts. Genma is looking at me curiously.

"What's wrong?" he asks, as we continue down the street. We're getting close to the shop.

I shrug. "Just thinking."

"You're practically scowling," he points out. "If you keep it up, your face will get stuck like that.

Immediately I relax my face, allowing a more neutral look to replace my previous one, and look up at him expectantly.

The shop owner welcomes us as we step in, and I hurry off to the section of the store I need. This store is one of the few that stock primarily children-sized clothes designed to look like the kind active duty ninja would wear. There are plenty of stores that carry casual t-shirts and pants, but I already have enough of those.

Still, I'm surprised we came here.

"Alright," Genma starts with a clap of his hands, "let's get started."

We start with pants — I've all but refused to buy a ninja-skirt (which you wear short under anyways) — and I hold up a black pair of pants designed to be taped at the ankle. I squint at the number on the tag, and turn to Genma expectantly, tucking the pants under my arm for the time being. "What size am I?"

He motions for me to hand him the pants, and takes one look at the tag before folding it and placing it back. "Not that size. That's a size 105."

"105? That's kinda high …" I mumble, checking the tags. I pick out one that reads _100._ "What about this one?"

"Closer," Genma agrees with a nod. "The sizes are based on height, so remember that when you look for stuff."

I nod.

Thirty minutes later we're checking out, and I take one of the bags, leaving Genma to carry the other one. Before we can leave, though, Genma stops me.

"Wait a second," he orders, before asking the woman behind the counter something. She nods in response, and Genma beckons me over. "Pick out one outfit and go change into it."

"Huh?" I blink, unsure what to say. "Why? Can't I just do it at home?"

He shakes his head. "We'll be out for awhile longer. Besides, I think you'll want to be wearing something more flexible."

I frown, narrowing my eyes at him suspiciously before reluctantly nodding. We head towards the back of the store, and Genma places the bag he's holding in there before nudging me in. I close the curtain behind me.

 _Don't get optimistic,_ I tell myself when my thought take a turn towards what I would need flexible clothes for. _It's probably nothing._

Still, I can't help but feel a bit excited from his response. The only thing that would warrant needing flexible clothes is if Genma finally decided to train me. The dress I wore out of the house would do nothing but get in the way.

I slip the shirt on first, which besides being long sleeved doesn't have anything really notable about it, and then slip the vest on. It's high collared, with two pockets, and the sleeves stop about halfway down my biceps. I fiddle with the collar, not used to having something so far up my neck, before turning to dig out a pair of pants.

Despite the size being mostly correct — they drag a bit, to be completely honest; I'm probably a centimeter or two shorter than the height these are made for —, they're a bit baggy, and I tug the drawstrings tighter before tucking them on the inside. The ends are bunched up at my ankles, and I attempt to fold them a few times. It doesn't work.

"Genma?" I crack the door open, and my brother turns to look at me. "I, uh … I need help."

He raises an eyebrow. "Help? With what?"

My cheeks flush in embarrassment as I whisper, "The — the ends of the pants … They're just flopping everywhere."

I step out, raising my leg to show him. "How do I fix it?"

"With bandages," he replies, kneeling down. He takes my ankle in one hand and I wobble dangerously. His free hand catches me before I can fall and I hop forward, using his shoulder for support. "Here, I'll do it for you."

He removes a roll of bandages from his pouch, and then proceeds to unfold and adjust the fabric before beginning to wrap my ankle. I wobble again, my arm trembling to keep me from collapsing on my brother. When he finishes, he repeats the process with my other leg.

"There you go," he says, once he's finished. "Better?"

I grin. "Yup." I turn to look back at the changing room. "What about my old clothes? And the ones in the bags?"

"I'll seal them once we leave," he responds offhandedly. "Need any help getting them?"

In response, I rush back into the changing room, shoving my discarded clothes into one of the bags and gathering the bags in my arms. "Nope!"

He chuckles, shaking his head at me. "Well, if you're ready then we can go."

The woman at the counter offers a, "Please come again!" as we leave, and I trot after my brother, fumbling to keep my hold on the bags.

"Genma, help meee," I whine, once we've left the store. "I'm too little to carry so much."

"Oh, so now you're pulling the 'little' card, huh?" he asks, but takes the bags despite it. "Weren't you saying just yesterday that you weren't a little kid? I thought you didn't need any help?"

I stick my tongue out. "I'm still not a little kid — but you're bigger than me, so you should carry around the bags!"

He sighs, but I can see the smile on his face. "What am I, your pack mule?"

I nod. "Yup." I glance around us as we walk, frowning. "Hey, where're we going, anyways?"

"Hm." Genma pauses for a moment before asking, "Are you hungry?"

I shake my head, and he nods to himself. "Are you fine with getting dango later then?"

"I want taiyaki," I reply, a wide grin stretching across my face. "Not dango; I told you that earlier—"

I stumble suddenly when one of the bags is dropped into my arms, thankfully managing to catch myself. I glare up at my brother, who simply smirks down at me in amusement. "Sorry," he apologizes, but his tone doesn't match his words, "I'm a bit old; can't carry weight like I used to."

I pout for a moment before transferring the handle of the bag to my hand to make it easier to hold. As we continue walking, I instinctively move a bit closer to Genma; I don't recognize this part of the village.

"So you really won't tell me where we're going?" I poke at my brother's arm to get his attention. "Is it some kinda surprise?"

His senbon clicks against his teeth as he replies, "You haven't figured it out yet? It's not hard; why would I make you change into new clothes?"

"Are we gonna go training?" The words come out quickly and slurred together, and I dart forward so that I'm walking backwards in front of my brother, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Am I right?"

The senbon tips up as my brother's grin grows. "You got it, kid."

"Yes!" My face feels as if it's going to split in half with how wide I'm smiling, and immediately I jolt forward to grab my brother's hand, tugging him forward insistently. "Come on, hurry up!"

Genma laughs, but allows me to pull him along for a few seconds before taking the lead again. "Don't get too excited; you probably won't enjoy training as much as you believe you will."

I shake my head.

Even if what he makes me do is difficult, it doesn't matter — I have to do something other than fail at meditating. I'm already letting down my brother by failing so much at it; I can't afford to suck at anything else. I can't afford to give up, or complain — I can't fail anymore. I can't.

I squeeze his hand tighter, swallowing back the sudden lump in my throat that has sucked away practically all of my happiness. _It'll be fine,_ I attempt to console myself, but it does little good. _You're going to be fine. You'll succeed; you'll show Genma that you aren't a failure. You won't be a disappointment._

Reaching the training ground helps raise my mood a little bit, but my chest is still tight. I glance down at my bag, and then at Genma's, and frown.

"Genma?" He looks down at me, and I hold up my bag as I ask, "What about the bags?"

"Ah — yeah, that's right." He reaches into his flak jacket, removing a single scroll slightly smaller than the ones back at our house. "Here, put it down for a moment."

He unravels the scroll, and I look curiously at the writing on it. There's … a lot of kanji. A few of them look familiar, but I can't recall the meaning off the top of my head. A few seconds later, all that remains is the scroll, and he rolls it back up before placing it back in his flak jacket. I take a glance around the training ground.

It's fairly well taken care of, if you ignore the random scuffs and charred spots. There aren't really any spare weapons lying around like I expected there to be.

"Welcome to training ground twelve," Genma states, and I'm able to gather enough enthusiasm to manage a crooked smile.

 _Don't fail. You can't disappoint him anymore._

"So what's first?" I immediately ask. "What're we doing first? Is it gonna be throwing kunai? Or shuriken? Or —"

"Calm down, Nagisa," he starts with a laugh. "Relax. We'll get there. First, though; some questions." He makes his way towards one of the training posts, motioning for me to follow him, and then removes a kunai from his weapon pouch. "What do you think could interfere with a weapon hitting its target?"

Immediately I respond, "The wind direction." Then I pause, raising a second finger as I continue, "The grip on the weapon, the weight of the weapon …" I look down at my three fingers. "Maybe the stance? Like, how far apart their feet are, and … um …"

I pull a blank. There have to be more — I should be able to think of at least five things; just one more, I only need _one more_ come on, come on …

"I — I don't know what else though," I start, glancing down at my fingers while attempting to hide my own disappointment. "Maybe — maybe, um … ah … I-I don't know …"

"Nagisa, relax," my brother tells me. "You're right. Those are all correct."

My chest relaxes, and I breathe out heavily, relief sweeping through my body. Genma holds out the kunai, offering me the hilt, and I take it without hesitating. Thanks to the hidden one in my dresser, I'm able to hold onto it with some amount of confidence; it doesn't even feel heavy anymore.

"Move your hand down a little," he tells me, "and elbows out."

He adjusts my fingers, moving my thumb away from my knuckles. "Don't make a fist around it," he advises.

And then, we move into throwing. First, he tells me how to position myself — "Relax your body; it'll help you avoid overthrowing the knife" and "left foot forward, put your right foot a bit behind it" —, and has me replicate it a few times before moving on. When he tells me to throw it towards the training post, I do so with only a moment of hesitation.

It doesn't even hit the target. Or go straight.

"Alright," Genma starts, as I go to collect the weapon from its place on the ground. "Let's try that again."

I take the stance, but rather than having me throw it this time Genma says, "Lock your wrist."

"Lock it?" I repeat, frowning. "Shouldn't I flick it?"

He shakes his head. "Flicking the wrist leads to inconsistent throwing. Lock your wrist, draw your arm back, and make sure your palm is facing the post. Don't throw it yet."

My frown grows, but I reluctantly do as he says, feeling slightly stupid when he has me repeat the motion two more times. Right when I'm about to say something, Genma orders, "Now throw it."

It still doesn't go far enough to hit the target, but it, for the most part, doesn't wobble or vault off in a random direction; rather, it goes straight.

"Good job," he praises me, offering a grin. "Now, let's do that again; you can move a bit closer if you'd like."

I take a few steps forward, breathing in a deep breath, and focus on the target before positioning myself. Then I raise my arm and throw it again —

—and it hits the target.

It doesn't go in; it actually just bounces right off, but immediately I turn to my brother, a grin stretching across my face as I cry out, "I hit it!"

"You did!" Genma ruffles my hair. "Go ahead and do it again."

After four more throws, though, it's hard to feel proud of myself. I've only gotten it into the log once — though that might have something to do with my age and lack of muscle definition —, and my arm is beginning to burn from the strain. And, on top of that, it still feels like I'm doing something wrong.

If only I could know exactly the angle my arm is supposed to go at, or was able to quickly calculate the angle I need to throw the kunai at — doing it like … _this_ just makes me feel like I'm going to mess up in actual combat, or when I have to try it in a new area, or at a new distance.

And, to make it even more stressful, I can't even attempt to mimic my brother or any other ninja's stance, because I'm a _child_ and inexperienced. I doubt many active duty ninja will be using a strict, beginner's form when they're in actual combat; they'll be using whatever works for them, built off that form.

I can't do that until I know the basics. I can't calculate _anything._

"Ah," I groan, rubbing at my bicep, "my arm hurts …"

"It's a bit difficult to get used to, isn't it?" My brother replies, holding out his hand. "We'll take a break for now."

I give him the kunai, and after putting it away I drop my hands to my side. "I'm not very good at it," I mumble, slightly dejected. "I couldn't even get it in the target more than once."

"You've only just started," Genma admonishes, "don't be so hard on yourself. You'll get better with experience."

I bite my lip, blinking back tears that are starting to form. "I don't care," I snap, but my voice wavers. "I — I wanted to get it right."

Bitterly, I think about how prodigies like Kakashi and Itachi likely didn't even need help when they started using kunai. I scuff my foot into the ground, kicking up dust, and swallow back the lump in my throat.

 _Fail at throwing a damn kunai and cry about it. Way to go,_ I berate myself. Genma pulls me into a side hug. "Nagisa, you can't expect to be perfect at everything the first time you try it … becoming proficient in kunai isn't something that happens overnight."

"I-I bet that you got it perfect at first," I whisper, rubbing my fists against my eyes. "I bet a — a lot of people did."

Genma chuckles, shaking his head at me. "Honestly? The first time I tried throwing a kunai, I sprained my shoulder and couldn't do it for another two weeks."

I laugh slightly, ignoring how it cracks near the end, and point out, "But you can spit senbon from your mouth."

"I can," he confirms. "You don't have to do things perfectly to be good at it."

I lean my head against him, nodding silently. Genma runs his hand across my forehead for a moment before patting me on the head. "You alright?"

I nod. "I'm OK," I confirm. "I'm sorry … for crying and stuff," I trail off at the end.

"Don't worry about it kid," he reassures me. "Now, let's move on."

He leads me across the training ground, passing through a small enclave of trees. We exit out to a larger clearing, and I look up at my brother expectantly.

"What do you think the circumference of this area is?"

I frown, taking another look around the clearing again. My mind whirls, eyes darting across and taking in the apparent distance, and maybe five seconds later I guess, "Maybe … around four hundred meters?"

Genma nods, and I feel a wave of pride go through me. "Close; it's three hundred and fifty meters — and you're going to run laps around it."

… Wait, _laps?_

"Big brother," I start slowly, furrowing my eyebrows. "I've never ran before."

He raises an eyebrow. "Yes, I'm aware. So?"

" _So,_ " I stress the word, "how the heck am I gonna do multiple laps? I'll — I'll get sick or something!"

"You won't get sick," Genma argues. "You don't have to run the entire time, and a single lap doesn't have a very large distance."

I groan under my breath, but reluctantly step away from him and prepare myself, only to be stopped. "Wait. You need to stretch first; you don't want to pull a muscle."

Begrudgingly I agree, and a few minutes later I begin my laps. A fourth of the way through my first lap, my lungs are already beginning to burn — halfway through, it's become worse, and I slow down for a moment to breathe in deeply before starting back up.

The second lap in, my legs start to ache. The ache turns into a burn as I pass the tree marking the halfway point of a lap, and I nearly trip over myself when I heave forward in an attempt to catch my breath. It feels like I'm suffocating.

I count to fifteen, trying to ignore the burn that accompanies each breath. Then I start back up.

Genma stops me when I come back around for my fourth lap, and I practically collapse on myself, coughing raggedly. My face is hot, and I wobble a bit as Genma approaches, offering me a water bottle. I take it wordlessly, sipping it carefully.

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" He asks, and I simply glare down at my feet. "You managed three full laps."

"Not fast, though," I reply lowly. "I bet I took twenty minutes to do it."

Genma doesn't argue. Instead, he says, "You'll build up endurance eventually. Now, why don't we go get some food?"

* * *

My routine doesn't change much as the year goes on, other than the obvious change to accommodate training daily. My endurance with running improves fairly quickly, and fairly quickly I find myself able to complete an entire lap without stopping, and then two, and eventually three.

Weapons progressed even smoother; there's not really much to say. Genma moved me into basic sparring, but it became obvious that neither of us was really aware of how to spar with each other. Despite finally growing tall enough to meet the marking on our wall, I'm still far too short for my age.

As for meditating … well, I haven't gotten worse. It was an uphill battle for a few months, but I've managed to practically block out the white world by now, finally, which has made it much easier. Not perfect, but easier. When I told my brother that, he seemed proud.

It made me happy.

Even better was the fact that Genma agreed to let me take the entrance exams for the Academy the spring after my fifth birthday; I'll be starting a year early if I pass.

New Years and my fifth birthday passes uneventfully, as usual, and as February crawls around I find myself falling back into the same bad habits as I did in my last life — over studying.

"Why don't you take a break?" Genma offers, from his spot beside me on the couch. I shake my head wordlessly, meticulously writing the kanji and its reading for extinguish — on: _shou._ Kun: _kesu, or kieru —_ on the line. After it's filled up, I move onto the next one — on: _chuu_. Kun: _sosogu, sasu, or tsugu_ — pour.

"Nagisa," he starts, his voice firm, and I reluctantly put my pencil down, frowning up at him. "Come on, take a break and eat something."

"I'm busy though," I whine, twirling my pencil. "Can't you let me study?"

He runs a hand through his hair. "You're studying material that you won't even be tested on for a few years, Nagisa," he says, exasperated. "You're going to wear yourself out if you don't stop."

I look down at the lines; they're crammed tightly together, small and neat only because of the hours I've put into steadying my hand. I've already filled out three pages front and back in the last week.

"Fine …" Reluctantly I close my notebook, putting it down on the couch beside me. "What am I supposed to do?"

Genma sighs heavily, shaking his head. "God … only five years old and you're a workaholic. Where did I go wrong?"

I frown. _Is that what he thinks?_

I open my mouth to protest, only to close it when he gets up. "Come on, I'll heat up some leftovers for you."

I shoot another look at my notebook, tempted to grab it and bring it with me, but my brother's words ring in my head once again and I leave it. I slide onto one of the chairs, resting my head on my arms and letting my eyes slip shut for a moment.

For a bit, it's silent between us, as Genma reheats the leftovers from last night. Eventually, though, he speaks. "I'll be leaving soon for a mission."

I crack my eyes open. "Really? When?"

"Early tomorrow morning," he responds. "I got the same genin as last time to check up on you; it'll just for a few hours, later into the day."

I sigh quietly, burying my head in my arms. "Is it gonna be a long time?"

"Probably a week," Genma responds, after a short pause. "I'm sorry it's so long — but after this, I won't be taking long missions like that for awhile."

I swing my legs wordlessly. It's been awhile since Genma left for a mission lasting longer than a few days. The missions pay pretty good, I guess, because we don't seem to struggle for money, but I can't help but get pangs of anxiety when he's gone for so long.

With a mission that long, there's a higher chance of him getting horrible injured, or the mission going wrong, or — or anything, really. So many things could go wrong when you're in Anbu and going on week-long missions.

Not to mention long missions like that … they can't mean anything good. The job is probably something awful if it takes that long to complete. Brutal, or disgusting, or immoral, or —

I shake my head quickly. _Don't think about that._

Still, the fact that my brother is in Anbu … it bothers me. In the show, he was just a Jonin ninja; I'm not sure if he retired sometime before that from Anbu, or if the Genma from the anime took a different route than the Genma I live with, but … I just wish he wasn't an Anbu.

Genma puts a bowl down in front of me and I take the chopsticks from their holder, murmuring a small, "Itadakimasu," before beginning to eat.

"So," he starts, after a few seconds of silence, "what's on your mind?"

I look up in surprise, and he raises an eyebrow in response. I look back down at my food, swallowing what's in my mouth before reluctantly saying, "…I don't like it when you go on long missions."

Before he can respond, I continue with, "I know you gotta — ninja's have to take missions. But … when you're gone on long ones like that, I — … I think about how the mission is probably real bad."

My brother frowns, and he asks, "What do you mean?"

Nervously, I lay my chopsticks across the top of the bowl, wringing my hands out. "I — I —" I lower my voice anxiously, crossing my fingers in hopes he doesn't take it the wrong way, "I just … if you're gone for a long time, then something bad might've happened. Or it'll be more _likely_ of happening."

"Nagisa," he starts slowly, "you know, I'm an adult. You don't need to worry about my safety."

I shrug. "I guess …"

"Hey. Look at me."

Reluctantly I look up, and Genma firmly says, "I know you're worried. And that's _fine_. But you need to trust me; I'm capable of taking care of myself, alright?"

"… Alright." I agree. "Will you bring me a souvenir at least?"

Genma cracks a smile, and huffs in amusement. "I'll try my best."

* * *

The Genin team show up at one for the first four days, and leave at four. I've only had this genin team once before; all my older ones have become chunin already. This new team is nice, I suppose, but they're really _quiet._ Not that quiet is a bad thing, but it's just an awkward silence. I'm busy studying, and they're busy doing literally nothing. All they're really doing is cooking me lunch and dinner to heat up. A few times they try to coax me out of the house, but I adamantly refuse.

Day five is the same. After Akane and her team leave, I take a few moments to clean up my things, lugging the notebook and kanji books into my room and settling them neatly on my table before returning to the main room. I check that the stove and oven are actually off — it never hurts to be careful — before grabbing my sandals from the genkan, the spare key from the drawer, and heading out. I shove my feet through the sandals and zip them up, slipping the key into the lock. I tug the door to check it's locked, and then set off down the stairs.

I follow the street, using certain buildings and noticeable things to direct myself. No one pays any attention to me — children wandering around the village is pretty normal — and I step to the side when a group of Academy aged students run past me. I watch them for a few seconds before continuing on my way, stifling a yawn that rips from my throat.

I pass by the park, and pause to look at the small playground. There are quite a few children out, mostly my age or younger, but I see a few kids who look to be about the same age as Genin. I approach the climbing area. Playgrounds are nothing big; just some swings, a large metal climbing spot, some sand boxes, and a whole lot of space. One of the older kids is hanging off one of the top bars by their legs, and I slip underneath the bars and heft one foot up.

The girl hanging off the top looks familiar, and it isn't until I get a few feet higher that I actually recognize her.

"Midori?"

She blinks, craning her head to look at me. Her eyebrows furrow for a moment, as if she's trying to remember who I am, but after a few seconds her eyes light up. "N-Nagisa-chan?"

I offer a smile, nodding. I climb a bit higher, looping my arms around the bars and trapping them between the inside of my elbows as I sit down. "Yeah — you remember me?"

"Of course!" She pulls herself up onto the structure, slipping down a few bars so that she's sitting next to me. "It's been awhile; how have you been?"

I shrug, wiggling my toes. "Pretty good," I reply. "I'll be taking the exam to start the Academy next month."

"Really?" Her eyes are wide. "You're so young … um, you're … five, right? It's been three years, I think."

"Mmhm," I hum. "Yeah."

Midori leans back. "Are you excited? The academy is real nice, though there's a lot of running … Michiru-sensei is a slave driver."

"Uh-huh." I adjust my position, trying to make it a bit less uncomfortable. "I've been studying a lot so I can pass the entrance exam."

She hums softly, bobbing her head up and down in a nod. "That's really good; you must have a lot of patience to be able to study."

"It's not _hard,"_ I reply with a frown. "I'm just taking a break right now, since my hand was starting to hurt …"

She glances around, as if she's looking for someone. "Is your brother here, then?"

"Nah …" I shake my head. "He's on a mission — he's bringing me back a souvenir though." I look up at the sky, which has begun to change colours, and crack my fingers as I ask, "How is your class? Is it hard?"

"Mm … not hard," she replies, "I'm in the top five of my class! We're going on a survival exercise next month, actually."

"A survival exercise?"

"Uh-huh! We'll be spending the weekend on the outskirts of the village in teams of three. It's training for when we're ninja."

My eyes widen. "Wow … is it your first one?"

"We've had one before," she responds, "at the end of last year, but it was just an overnight trip. This one is three whole _days."_

From the way her voice is pitched it's obvious she's excited, and a smile comes to my face as I say, "That's cool."

"It is," she agrees. There's a short silence that lasts about half a minute before she starts with, "Hey, Nagisa-chan, do you like flowers?"

I shrug. "Kinda. Why?"

"There're these classes called kunoichi classes." Her nose scrunches up a bit as she explains, "It's for us girls so we can learn things that'll be helpful in the future; there's a lot of ikebana."

"I-Ikebana?" I repeat. "What's that?"

"It's when you put together flowers. Anyways, Suzume-sensei is super strict about getting it right … so make sure you listen to her lessons, alright? She'll get really grumpy if you don't."

I nod. Then ask, "Is there only one sensei for kunoichi classes?"

"No, but Suzume-sensei has multiple classes. You might get, um … I think her name is Noriko-sensei?"

"Suzume and Noriko …" I offer a thumbs up to the girl. "Alright, thanks! I'll remember their names."

A cold breeze wafts through my jacket, and I shiver slightly. To my surprise, Midori doesn't even seem to notice it despite wearing only a long sleeve shirt, in comparison to my vest and shirt. She's even wearing a skirt.

"Well," she starts, after a few moments of silence, "I should get back; Mitsuko doesn't like it when we're late."

Mitsuko … the name is familiar — "The matron?"

Midori glances at me in surprise, but is quick to nod. "Yup. Wow, you remember her?"

"Uh … y-yeah." I blink, and suddenly ask, "How is Souta?"

"Souta-kun?" Midori grips the bars tightly, swinging her body through the gap. "Oh — he's good. He doesn't cry as much anymore. Apparently, someone is sponsoring him this year; it's pretty amazing, isn't it?"

I shrug. "What's sponsoring?"

"It's when a ninja offers to pay for an orphan to start the academy early … it's pretty rare." I follow her down the bars, and she offers me a hand. I take it, just to be polite, and land with a small _oof_ beside her. To my dismay, there's an awfully large height difference between us; I stand level with her chest.

How embarrassing. Noticing my flushed cheeks, Midori pats my head with a small giggle. "Anyways, I gotta get going. It was nice to see you, Nagisa-chan! Good luck with your entrance exam!"

I wave at her as she goes, looking up at the darkening sky, and beginning my trek back home.

* * *

I return the next day and find Midori in the same place as yesterday. The day after that is the same, and so is the one after that.

My brother returns home on day nine, and I'm too caught up in my excitement to remember to meet Midori at the park. Rather than cooking dinner, we decide to go out, and by the time we're on our way out it's already dark outside.

"Was your mission scary?" I ask, as we slide into the booths of the ramen house. It's not the trademark Ichiraku ramen house from the show, but rather the one close to my brother's favourite dango house.

"Not particularly," Genma responds, after putting in his order to the owner. "Pretty boring for the most part."

I nod. "At least nothing bad happened." The owner turns to me, and I request, "Um — a small shio ramen, please."

I swing my feet above the ground, fiddling with the wooden chopsticks. "Big brother?"

"Hm?"

"Where's my souvenir?"

He chuckles. "Ah, that's right —" he reaches inside of his flak vest, removing a small bag from it. I hold my hand out, and he places it in my palm. "There you go."

I grin, tucking it into my pocket with a, "Thanks!"

I snap my chopsticks apart when the ramen arrives, and immediately dip the soup spoon into the broth to take a sip after the necessary, "Itadakimasu" _._

We don't really talk as we eat, and I struggle for a moment to cut the egg open with my chopsticks. When it comes apart I take a bite of it with the noodles and soup, humming happily.

Genma finishes eating about the same time I reach the halfway point of my own bowl, and I place my chopsticks down after him. "Gochisousama," I parrot, after my brother says the same phrase.

"Is that all you're eating?" Genma asks, eyeing my bowl with a raised eyebrow. "You should try to eat a little bit more."

I shrug, picking my chopsticks back up and picking up a single noodle, before dropping it back into the bowl. "I'm full though."

He sighs, but shakes his head regardless. "If you're sure …" He places the ryo down, offering a salute-wave thing to the owner before we head out. I rub my arms vigorously, my long sleeve doing little to help with the sudden cold.

"Sooo," I start, as we make our way through the village. "How was your mission?"

"Didn't you already ask me that?" Genma asks, somewhat amused, and I shrug.

"I just asked if it was scary. But how _was_ it?" I press, glancing at one of the stalls. "What did you actually do?"

Genma's the one to shrug this time, his senbon flicking up. "Sorry kiddo, you know I'm not allowed to tell you that. Classified, y'know?"

I sigh. "Yeah, I know … I don't get what's the big deal though. It's not like something bad will happen if I know."

"Rules are rules," Genma replies. "Speaking of rules, have you started going over the shinobi rulebook I gave you before I left?"

I open my mouth to respond, only to close it after a moment. Then, again, and my teeth click against each other as I struggle to think of a response.

Of course I've looked over it — the furigana helped with the kanji I didn't know, making it fairly simple to read through, but the things written in there … some of them were awful, to be honest.

Enough to turn me away from ever attempting to become a medical ninja. _No medic ninja shall die until they are the last of their platoon;_ rule number three of the Medical-Nin section.

"There are three prohibitions for shinobi," I start, looking up at the darkened sky as I speak, "One — alcohol, two — sex, and three — money." I raise a finger with each one I list off, and then drop my hand to my side uncomfortably. "Rule number five —"

A hand comes down to lightly smack my head. "Relax, I wasn't expecting you to go reciting them," my brother tells me, but he doesn't sound as amused as he did earlier. "I'm guessing you've already memorized them all, huh?"

I swallow dryly. Rule number five — _shinobi are to put the good of the village before themselves_. Related to rule number four; _a shinobi must always put the mission first._ No exceptions.

No different than before — put the family first. Don't disgrace them by doing something for yourself; you are nothing compared to everyone else.

My parents from Earth, whose names and faces I've long forgotten … they would've fit in perfectly with this world.

"Not yet," I reply, but my voice is weak and my stomach is burning painfully from connections that I never wanted to make. "I'll have them memorized soon, though."

"Try not to overwork yourself," my brother says softly. "You'll burn out if you keep going like this."

 _Maybe in another thirteen years,_ I think, before forcing a laugh and — "I'll be fine; don't worry!"

And before he can say anything else, I speed up ahead of him and take the lead back to our apartment.

* * *

The first week of March, I take the entrance exam. Only five other kids are in the room with me; I'm the first one to finish. I head to the park that night, to tell Midori about it, but she wasn't there; more than likely, she was at the survival trip she'd been telling me about.

A measly week later, the results come back. Midori returns to the park, congratulating me when I tell her the results of the exam. Three weeks after that, in the beginning of April, I find myself standing with a crowd of probably over a hundred other students. The boy beside me, standing in the front row, is one of the ones who were in the exam with me, and I turn my attention to the Hokage as he begins to speak.

Out of those five others who took the exam, I only see two of them; the boy beside me, and a girl who I caught a glimpse of when I arrived. Unlike the Rookie Nine class, which is either a year or two behind me considering my early entrance, my class is pretty devoid of clan children. I see maybe one Uchiha kid, one Hyuuga kid, and what _could be_ an Akimichi in the crowd, but that's about it.

Not that it matters — it's probably safer in the long run anyways.

The speech is long and boring. There's the obligatory Will of Fire part, the talk about how we're the new generation of ninja … all a bunch of stuff that is likely supposed to be motivating to young children.

The speech lasts long enough that the kid beside me begins to squirm, fiddling with a stray strand of string that's coming off his shirt. He tugs at it, attempting to snap it off, but this only leads to the strand becoming longer when he fails.

When the speech finally ends and the clapping is over with, I find my brother and offer him a wave before the teachers step up and begin to call out names.

"Shiranui Nagisa," I look up when my name is called, making my way over to the clump of students that have gathered by him, "Uchiha Kaede, and Yamaguchi Souta. All of you whose name I called, please come with me."

The boy beside me — Souta, apparently; likely the one from the orphanage — quickly catches up with our group, and we make our way into one of the larger classrooms. Immediately everyone disperses, and I quickly make my way to one of the rows in the back, sliding up against the wall. A boy, around a year older than me, slides into the seat beside me, and Souta follows suit.

Once everyone is seated — and chattering excitedly, as kids tend to do —, he clears his voice. "Good morning — my name is Yamamato Takeo, and I'll be your instructor."

He goes on about some other things, but I quickly find myself losing interest. My head is _pounding_ like there's no tomorrow, and despite my brain screaming at me to at least _look_ like I'm paying attention so I don't look like a bad student, it's just too much work for the time being.

"Takeo-sensei seems sorta grumpy," the boy beside me grumbles, his chin propped up on his fist. "I wonder if he's gonna be any good at teaching us stuff."

Souta squirms uncomfortably as he responds, "I heard from an older classmate that he's not that bad …"

I rest my head in my hands, silently groaning. Of all the people who had to sit next to me, it had to be talkers.

"Hey, what's your name?" I swing my feet, leaning forward so that my heels don't bang against the bottom of the bench. "How old are you, anyways?"

"Me?" I ask, in a lowered tone. "Shouldn't you be paying attention right now?"

He shrugs, and I see Souta pull at the loose string again, looking at the two of us with a hint of curiosity. "It's not like we're gonna learn anything today anyways. So how old are you? Four?"

"I'll be I turned five in January," I grumble. "What about you?"

"I'm six," he gloats. "Whadda'bout you?" He asks Souta, who blinks in surprise.

"Oh — um … I'll be six in November," he says slowly. "So … Nagisa-chan is the youngest of us?"

I furrow my eyebrows. "How do you know my name?" I ask. The only time he could've heard it was when Takeo-sensei was calling out our names, but how many five year olds pay attention to that?

"Takeo-sensei," Souta confirms, and I shut my mouth and stop that train of thought.

The boy in the middle leans back in his seat, not even bothering to pay attention to our teacher. At least he keeps his voice down. "I'm Takumi."

Souta looks between the two of us nervously, as if he's not sure whether or not he should say his own name, and I offer a faked look of curiosity in his direction that seems to push him along.

"I'm Souta," he finally says, right as he manages to pull the errant string from his clothing. "Um … does this make us all friends?"

Takumi nods, and I massage my temples gingerly, Takeo-sensei's words droning into the background as Souta and Takumi finally go silent.

* * *

 **A/N: I've actually uploaded/drawn pictures of Nagisa both as a kid and as a genin, so if anyone is interested in seeing those pictures please check out my art blog on tumblr! I'll be putting the name of it up on my fanfiction profile later in the day.**

 **My finals are next week so I'm just gonna leave this here. Next semester, I'm taking far more units, so I'm going to be struggling to update as well; however, during my winter break (about a month long), I will try to write as many chapters as I can so that I will be able to update for everyone. My computer is broken, though; I actually wrote this entire thing on mobile google docs. So please forgive any typos!**

 **Thank you to everyone who favourited, followed, and reviewed this story!**

 **Please continue to read and review, I appreciate feedback and hearing what everyone liked about the chapter! It really motivates me to write quicker.**


	5. Academy: Chapter 4

**Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto**

* * *

The academy is exactly how I expect it to be — boring. Besides what can only be called PE classes, all we do is book work. Very little practical, hands on activities; it takes a lot of effort not to just fall asleep during the lectures. My pride helps quite a bit, though.

Then again, I can't blame the teachers. No one wants to give five and six year olds sharp weapons; that's just a recipe for disaster. I'm sure it'll come in a year or two but right now? Definitely not.

The first week, Takeo-sensei hands out hiragana and katakana worksheets to everyone to make sure we're not completely illiterate. Surprisingly, only one kid out of our whole class didn't know both of them, allowing us to move straight into kanji while he was assigned extra practice.

Then, there's the shinobi rules — hounded into us relentlessly. Even Takumi, whose study habits are abhorrent, gets 100% on rule quizzes (which, by the way, happen every _day_ ) and can list them off the top of his head without any trouble by the end of the month.

And propaganda; _lots_ of propaganda. Despite knowing exactly what is going on, even I find myself feeling a strange sort of pride for my village that hadn't been there before.

It's fascinating.

Oh, and Kunoichi classes; I suppose they could be worse, seeing how it's only twice a week, but picking flowers and learning how to make secret codes out of flowers — which is all we've done — is exhausting. I don't have an eye for flowers.

"Nagisa-chan, pay attention."

I straighten up. "Sorry, Noriko-sensei."

When the class lets out I gather my things up, sighing tiredly to myself. Since we're still in our first year of the Academy, our years haven't been mixed up yet; that'll likely come when we're eight or nine years old and more people have dropped out.

I rub my calf, wincing slightly. The amount of running we do in PE is absurd; run laps until you absolutely cannot run anymore; until your legs feel like they're going to fall out from under you and you're drenched in sweat.

And then push through it and keep going until the teachers tell you to stop.

The next day, when lunch rolls around, Takumi practically drags me and Souta out to the playground. "Come on, the entire class is gonna play ninja today!"

Souta frowns. "But we haven't eaten lunch yet …"

"More like you haven't eaten lunch yet," Takumi retorts. "Nagisa-chan always leaves half her lunch uneaten."

I offer him a glare, pulling my wrist from his grip. "Not my fault too much is packed."

"Anyways, you can always eat it later. It's not a big deal," Takumi reasons. "So hurry up and come play!"

'Playing ninja' is just a over-glorified version of tag, to be completely honest. It isn't a lot of fun unless you're really good at dodging, which I am not; so, when you can't dodge, the next best option is to hide.

"Why don't we make a new rule?" One of the girls asks, when the teams have been picked out. "Some of us can be medic ninjas, so those people can't tag others; they can only heal fallen ninja."

"Fine with me," Kosuke, the leader of the other team replies. "But who's gonna be the medic ninja?"

"The slowest runners!" another boy pipes in. "And medic ninja's have'ta count to five before they can revive someone."

I sigh heavily. This lunch break is going to be _long._

Each team ends up with three medic ninja, and those three are picked out through a sprinting test; from where we're standing, to the tree, and back. The three slowest runners are the medic ninja.

Souta ends up one of the medics, but the rest of them I don't know the name of, and when the game starts everyone breaks off into a run.

Immediately I make my way over to Souta. "C'mon, let's go hide or something."

"Huh? But —"

I tug him forward. "If you're tagged then we'll only have two medics left; so you gotta hide and wait until you're needed."

"But why are you coming?" He asks.

I just shrug. "Someone has to protect the medic."

Most of the medics on both teams end up out, and in the end we don't even get to finish the game — which is kind of sad, considering ourlunch-recess break lasts an _hour_. You never know boredom until you're stuck hiding behind a tree for the better part of an hour. Souta retreats out of the hiding place every so often to help some of our team members, and I follow after him, tagging the few people who try to stop it, but other than that we're either running or hiding.

Takumi high-fives him as we make our way back to the classroom. "See? It was fun, right?"

"I guess?" I mumble. "Souta didn't get to eat lunch though."

"Neither did you," Souta points out. "I guess we'll just have to eat it later …"

Both him and Takumi end up eating their lunch during our history lesson, leaving me with the responsibility of copying down the notes for them, and I wordlessly offer my own lunch to the two of them.

Takumi looks at it weirdly. "Why are you giving it to us?"

"Because I'm gonna eat at home," I reply. "So eat it; I don't want it to get wasted."

Both of them share look, before reluctantly taking it off my hands. When the day is over, I hand over the notes to Takumi, taking back my now empty bento box. "See you tomorrow."

* * *

"Mom wanted to know if you guys could come over tonight," Takumi starts, leaning back in his seat. "Think you can make it?"

"What time?" I ask, taking a glance up at the front of the room. Takeo-sensei hasn't started teaching yet; Kaede is talking to him about something.

He hums in thought, scratching his cheek roughly. "Mom said seven, but she'll probably expect me to be doing homework at that time." He sighs heavily at that.

"Why don't we all do our homework at your house, then?" Souta suggests. "Nagisa-chan and me can help you with the stuff you don't understand!"

I nod. "That sounds fine with me — I'll just have to let my brother know."

"Great!" Takumi grins, kicking his feet in excitement. "She already bought the stuff for dinner tonight — it's good you guys said yes."

I poke his arm, saying, "It's bad to make plans like that before you know people will say yes."

"Ah — you don't gotta be like that, Nagisa-chan," Takumi retorts, leaning away from my finger. "Anyways, meet me back at the academy at six thirty, OK? I can lead you guys to my house."

"Quiet!" Takeo-sensei says firmly, and almost immediately most of the chatter throughout the classroom quiets. "We'll take attendance now, and then begin by going over the test from last week."

When he hands the papers back to us, I take mine wordlessly. 100%.

"What did you get?" Takumi peers over my shoulder. "Another 100?"

Souta offers his paper for us to see. "92 for me."

"Yeah? Well …" Takumi sighs. "I got a 70. I don't understand this stuff."

"It's gonna drop your ranking again," I point out. "Why didn't you ask for help?"

Takumi shrugs, shoulders slumping. "I dunno."

Currently, Takumi is in the bottom ten of our class; the ranks are posted very clearly in the halls for everyone to see. It's supposed to motivate us to do better. I have the highest rank, and Souta is two places behind me, with only Kaede — the Uchiha — separating us in the ranks.

Speaking of Uchiha's … how long is it until the massacre happens? Sasuke is … eight, I believe, when it happens, and I'm almost two years older than him — another five years left until Kaede is dead.

My face scrunches up at that thought. Although the show made Itachi out to be the hero, doing something no one else was willing to do for the good of the village … there's nothing heroic about slaughtering innocent people. Nothing good about killing children who aren't even old enough to enter into the academy — children who did nothing wrong except be born.

"Nagisa-chan?" Souta starts, and I look up sharply. His eyebrows are creased in worry. "What's wrong?"

I unclench my fist, cracking the knuckles to get rid of the soreness. Shakily I breathe out, resting my now wrinkled paper down on the table. "Nothing," I reply, "nothing — I'm fine. Sorry …"

"If you're sure," Souta replies, before he goes silent. Takeo-sensei begins the lecture soon after — it's just math; simple arithmetic that I mastered over a decade ago, in my past life. I think I was around this age as well.

Takumi leans forward to rest his head on folded arms only a minute after the lesson begins, drawing both mine and Souta's attention to the brunett.

"Are you tired?" Souta questions quietly. "Takeo-sensei will give you detention if you sleep in class y'know. Then we won't be able to come over."

Takumi groans in response, and I poke his side suddenly, leading him to jerk and straighten up. I simply grin in response, turning my attention back to the lesson.

Honestly, despite being almost bored to tears during these lessons, I force myself to pay attention; I can't have Takeo-sensei thinking I'm a bad student; plus, it'll make Genma look bad if I don't listen in class.

"Ah, crap," I mumble suddenly with a grimace, looking up at the clock above the chalkboard.

Souta blinks curiously. "What is it?"

"I have kunoichi class today."

"So?" Takumi asks. "What's the big deal?"

I sigh. " _So,_ it takes me twenty minutes to walk home, and the class is an hour long — I'll be late."

"So why don't you just skip then?" Souta suggests, tapping his fingers on the wood of the desk. "It's no big deal if you miss a class."

The look I give him is less than amused. "I can't skip," I reply, pulling my knee to my chest and shifting so that my foot doesn't slip off the bench. "Noriko-sensei will think I'm a bad student!"

"Nagisa-chan," Takeo-sensei's voice cuts through the air, and immediately I stiffen up, clamping my mouth shut as I turn to look at the man. "Is there something you'd wish to share with the class?"

My cheeks flush in embarrassment and I shake my head. "No sensei, sorry …"

"Sit properly," he orders, after a moment of silence, before moving on. A few kids in front of me giggle, and I slump back in my seat, leg sliding flat until my heel is resting against the wood.

My eyes burn from embarrassment, and I swallow back the lump in my throat. Takumi prods my shoulder tentatively, but I simply swat his hand away and rub my eyes roughly.

The morning lessons blur together; considering I've already made a fool of myself, I don't put much effort into listening, and although the burn of tears doesn't return, my stomach feels as if a weight has been dropped in it. When lunch rolls around, I simply drop my head between my arms, grasping handfuls of hairs in an attempt to keep my composure.

"Are you OK?" Souta asks, tentatively. "Wanna go outside and eat? It might make you feel better …"

I shake my head. I hear him shuffle in place, and lift my head morosely. "I'm … I'm just gonna stay here," I mutter, grabbing my bento and sliding it over to the two of them. "Here — eat it for me."

Takumi narrows his eyes. "C'mon, it wasn't even that big of a deal," he starts, crawling back onto the bench so he can grab my arm. "Takeo-sensei probably already forgot about it —"

"He's not gonna forget!" I snap, tugging my arm away. "He's gonna think I'm a bad student, and that I don't listen, and —"

"You're being stupid," he huffs, grabbing my arm more firmly and tugging me away from the wall. "Besides, who care if he thinks you're a bad student? You get 100s on everything anyways."

Souta looks between the two of us, eyebrows furrowed in thought, before he moves to the row in front of me and takes a seat backwards, resting his elbows on our table. "Nagisa-chan, y'know, Takeo-sensei scolded Kaede-san yesterday. But this morning he wasn't mad at her when she talked to him."

I say nothing, using my free hand to grasp the end of the desk in case Takumi resumes his pulling again. "Come on," he groans, when the silence stretches on, "please?"

"You'll be tired for PE again if you don't eat lunch." Souta places my bento box down in front of me. "We'll all stay in here and eat."

Reluctantly I pick up the box, sighing. "Fine …"

Looking at my brother, you wouldn't expect for him to be able to pack bentos that rival the ones packed by Takumi's mother; or mothers in general. The first day of the academy, when I opened it up, I'd been more than surprised at the arrangement — and I'd felt slightly bad ruining such a beautiful display.

… Talking about food that way sounds strange, but it's true.

Today it's pork belly and daikon, hijiki and carrot kinpira, bamboo shoots, and rice. Fairly standard — the pork belly and daikon as well as the rice is leftover from last night while the bamboo shoots were bought from the market, already cooked.

Takumi practically races through his own bento, while Souta and I take ours more slowly. I quickly grab one of the tamagoyaki slices before he finishes them all.

"Y'know, I don't get it," Takumi starts, when he finally takes a break from eating, "why do you take our food instead of finishing your own, Nagisa-chan?"

"I don't really like daikon," I admit. "And the daikon is touching the rice."

"You're eating the meat though," he points out. "What's the difference?"

I squint at him. "Rice isn't meat."

Takumi sighs, shaking his head. "That's stupid."

When both of them are finished, I place my chopsticks back in the container, slapping the lid back on and putting it away. "Do you feel better?" Souta asks, when we're descending the stairs of the classroom.

"I guess," I reply. "I think I'll apologize to Takeo-sensei after class, though."

"Ah, don't be like that," Takumi huffs, slapping me on the back. I stumble, nearly tripping over the last stair, but before I can say anything he slings an arm around my shoulder and drags me into his side. "Like I said; Takeo-sensei probably forgot it already! You don't gotta bring it back up."

"Takumi-kun is right." I look over at Souta, who managed to avoid Takumi's other arm and is standing by the door. "So just relax, Nagisa-chan. It'll be fine!"

I say nothing for a few seconds. Then, finally, my shoulders slump and a small smile breaks out on my face. "I — … I guess you're right."

"We're always right!" Takumi boasts, before slamming the door open and bouncing out into the halls. "So come on, let's go play!"

When class is over, I reluctantly bid goodbye to Takumi and Souta before trudging towards the classroom set aside for kunoichi classes. Kaede joins me.

"Shiranui-san," she greets, and I'm taken off guard by her formality. Everyone in our class, even sensei, is on a first name basis — except Kaede, apparently.

"Ah — uh, hi," I offer back, unsure on how I should address her. Instinctively I'd like to say Kaede-san or something, but she's using my last name … so maybe it'd be best to use her last name as well?

Before I can muse over it some more we reach the classroom and take our seats. Noriko-sensei joins us a few minutes later, setting down a box on the podium and clearing her throat.

"Today, we'll be learning how to sew," Noriko-sensei starts, when the talking has died down. "For those of you who become kunoichi, there will come a time in your life when you'll be forced to go undercover for the mission. On average, you will take three times as many infiltration missions as your male teammates and friends — however, you must not let this number scare you."

Three times as many? That's … a bit high, considering how most ninja most likely won't take more than three or four during their entire lifetime unless they specialize in it. Still …

I raise my hand. "Noriko-sensei, what does sewing have to do with infiltration?"

"Well," she starts, pacing in front of the podium, "in the simplest case, you may be asked to go undercover as a seamstress — either replacing one that is currently there, or becoming one who did not exist."

"Replacing one?" a girl from the second first-year class blurts out. "But then they'll be able to tell the difference!"

Noriko-sensei shakes her head. "That is where the _henge_ _no jutsu_ comes in handy."

There's a collective silence across the room. Then, finally, sensei sighs. "How many of you know what a _henge_ is?"

Five hands go up, mine included, and sensei rubs her temple. "Henge no jutsu is using chakra to transform into another creature; whether it be a person, plant, or even an animal," she tells us. "So, in the example I gave; if hired to impersonate another person, in this case a seamstress, you would transform into the seamstress and take over her duties."

She launches into a lecture about the basic of sewing before having us come up and grab the materials; we'll be working on making a _kinchaku._

Sewing, as it turns out, is hard. Besides poking yourself near constantly, there's also the fact that, after awhile, your hand starts to cramp _badly._ Noriko-sensei leads us through the steps, but there are quite a few mistakes and questions that make this lesson unbearably long.

Considering how old this class is, I'm surprised we're being started off with something so difficult in the first place — there's no way we're going to finish this in one class period.

As it turns out, I'm right; Noriko-sensei announces that we'll be working on it again next week, and I quickly gather my things together before shooting out of the room and heading for the door.

It's a twenty minute walk to my house … I wonder how fast I can run it? Hopefully ten minutes — that'll give me enough time to tell Genma (or leave a note if he's not home) and run back to the Academy before six thirty.

As it turns out, I don't have to worry about making it home; as I turn a corner, I practically barrel into my brother, knocking me off balance.

"Whoa there!" Genma manages to grab hold of my arm before I can hit the ground, and I look up at him sheepishly. "What's the rush, princess?"

"I'm going to Takumi's house for dinner," I blurt out. "Is that OK? I have to meet him and Souta back at the academy by six thirty!"

My brother raises an eyebrow in amusement, releasing my arm when I've gained my balance back. "Six thirty? You're cutting it a bit close, trying to get home and back."

"Heh … I know." I shrug. "That's why I was running."

Just then, I realize that we're not alone — standing a few steps behind my brother is a tall man, dressed in the same standard jonin wear as my brother. His hair is long and auburn, tied into a ponytail that reaches past his waist. When he catches me staring, he offers a small smile.

"So, this is your sister, Genma-kun?"

My brother sighs at the honorific. "Ah — yeah, this is her."

"So much for never becoming tied down by a woman," the stranger says offhandedly, and immediately I stiffen. Genma does something similar, and his senbon flicks to the other side of his mouth.

"Yamanaka-san," he starts, his voice tense. "Please watch what you say around my sister."

Yamanaka-san's eyes flicker down to me, and I quickly avert my gaze, hands clenched into fists. "Ah," he finally begins, after a long silence. "That was a bit out of line, I suppose."

I swallow the lump in my throat. "Big brother?" I start, and Genma pretends not to notice how uneasy I sound, thankfully picking up on what I was trying to hint towards.

"Hm? Oh, you need to get going, don't you?" I nod wordlessly, and he nods, hands resting limply in his pockets. "Try to be home before nine, alright?"

I nod. Then, with one last look at Yamanaka-san, I retrace my path back to the academy, ignoring the sick feeling in my gut.

Thanks to running into my brother, I reach the Academy with plenty of time to spare, and make my way over to the single swing hanging off the tree. I sit down on it, leaning forward to push myself a bit before pumping my legs.

Yamanaka-san's words … something is off about them; besides the obvious, inappropriate innuendo — there's something that makes me horribly uncomfortable.

 _Don't think about it,_ I tell myself, as the swing begins to bring me higher into the air. _Ignore it; big brother isn't even on a first-name basis with him. He's probably just a work partner. A Yamanaka … but not the clan head. He's not important — ignore it._

"Nagisa-chan!"

I allow my feet to go lax, turning to look in the direction of the yell. Souta and Takumi are standing by the gates, and I jump off the swing, landing in a crouch, before hurrying over to them.

"Hey, you made it on time!" Takumi points out with a grin. "See? Told'ya you could do it."

I smile sheepishly. "Actually, I didn't have to go home — I ran into my brother before I got home."

"Oh, really?" Takumi laces his fingers behind his head as we walk. "Well, that works too I guess."

Souta looks more excited than I expect him to, and when I point it out he laughs slightly. "Ah — I've never been to anyone's house before."

"Oh, really? Did you not have any friends before the Academy?" Takumi asks, rather bluntly, and I wince. "That sucks."

Souta pauses. Then, "I'm an orphan, Takumi-kun."

Takumi is silent for a grand total of four seconds. "Ah, crap." He lowers his arms to his side. "Sorry — I didn't know. But they listed you with a last name in class!"

"Yamaguchi is the last name all orphans have," Souta tells him. "It's just … kinda what you call us."

Takumi whistles. "That's harsh …"

" _So_ ," I interrupt, somewhat loudly in an attempt to change the topic, "what kinda things is your mom making tonight?"

We spend the rest of the walk talking about food, and before long we're standing in front of a modestly sized house in middle of the housing district. It's not located in the civilian area, like the apartment Genma and I live in, and I ask, "Are your parents ninja?"

"Huh? Oh — well, dad is," Takumi replies as he opens the front door, and then he calls out, " _Tadaima!"_

From further in the house, I hear a muffled, " _Okaeri._ "

We leave our sandal in the genkan and Takumi leads us into a washitsu style room. "Mom doesn't like it when I'm in the kitchen — we can go to my room if you guys want, but I usually do my work in here."

I shrug. "I'm fine doing homework anywhere."

"Me too," Souta pipes in, and Takumi nods.

By the time Takumi's mom calls us for dinner, I've finished all my homework while Takumi and Souta are nearing finishing theirs. I do my best not to stare as I follow Takumi into the dining room, and both his parents are bringing over the plates. While Souta and I take a seat at the table, Takumi retreats into the kitchen for something.

"Ah, you two must be Souta," Takumi's mom glances at Souta, "and Nagisa — thank you for being friends with my son; I hope he hasn't been much trouble."

I blink in surprise. "Oh — um … no problem," I reply. "Takumi-kun is a good friend."

"Thanks for having us," Souta offers, seeing how I've already responded to the thank you. I look down at the curry rice, taking the spoon Takumi offers me. Takumi's dad offers a broad smile to the both of us, and Takumi takes a seat in the remaining chair.

After a chorused " _Itadakimasu_ " everyone begins to eat, and I quickly find myself feeling incredibly awkward. Eating in front of people is just _weird_ ; especially when it's your friend's parents. I can never tell if I'm eating too fast or not.

"Are you two enjoying the academy?" Takumi's dad asks. "Takumi-chan said you're both early entries —"

"Dad!" Takumi interrupts, his cheeks flushed, "I said not to call me by -chan anymore — use -kun! Remember?"

He chuckles. "Ah, that's right; Takumi-kun, sorry. Mama messes it up too, doesn't she?"

Takumi's mom laughs as well. "Takumi-chan has a cuter ring to it, don't you two think?"

I nod awkwardly, unsure how to respond to that kind of question. This kind of teasing isn't unusual to me — Genma teases me quite often —, but watching other families do it is just _weird._ It feels so … intimate. _Wrong_ to be watching.

"So, Nagisa-chan and Souta-kun," Takumi's dad starts, once again. "You're early entries? What are your surnames?"

"Yamaguchi is mine," Souta starts, "and Nagisa-chan's is Shiranui."

"Shiranui?" Takumi's mom repeats. "Do you have a family member named Genma?"

I look up from my curry, blinking in surprise. "Huh? Oh — um, yeah … why?"

"Papa, weren't you talking about a boy named Genma a few weeks ago?"

He takes a moment to finish chewing before replying, "That's right — we were on border patrol a few times, I believe. You're …"

He squints at me, and I quickly supply, "His sister," before he can guess. The last thing I want is to mistaken for my brother's _child._

"That makes sense," he muses. "How's he doing lately? Last time I saw, he was quite stressed."

I shrug. "He's OK."

The conversation flows onto Souta, thankfully, and I resume eating while silently listening to the conversation. Takumi sighs, and I prod his side softly. "What's wrong?"

"Later," he mumbles.

I offer to help with dishes, but am shooed away by Takumi's mother. The three of us regroup in the sitting room, and Takumi slumps down on the table, hiding his face in his arms. I poke him again.

"Stop doing that," he grumbles, but lifts his head. "Ugh … sorry they talked so much; I told them not to be so talkative, but they didn't listen!"

"I don't mind," Souta tells him. "It's nice … they really love you."

"More like smother me … they even had to be all weird and ask about your brother, Nagisa-chan." His face scrunches up. "Who _does_ that?"

"Eh," I reply with a shrug. "It could've been worse.

"Yeah; at least they weren't judging us," Souta mentions.

"As far as we know," I reply, somewhat jokingly. "Anyways — let's finish our homework already."

Takumi's mom brings us a bowl of anmitsu to share, though Takumi ends up eating most of it before Souta and I can get much; nonetheless, we do get some, seeing how the bowl had a lot more in it than you'd normally give to one person.

By the time we're finished it's nearly eight, and I lay back on the tatami mats, arching my back into a stretch as I groan. "Do you —" I roll onto my stomach, propping my chin up on the heel of my hand, "—think you get it now, Takumi- _chan?"_

"Huh? Oh, yeah—" his eyes narrow, "hey, what do you mean - _chan?_ Since when did you stop using -kun!?"

I grin. "Takumi-chan is so much cuter, though~"

From beside me, Souta giggles. "Takumi-chan," he teases. "Takumi-chan fits you good—"

He growls, and both Souta and I shriek when he pounces, dragging us into to the ground and attempting to pin us. I reach for his leg, trying to gain some sort of leverage, but unfortunately Takumi is heavier than me — it doesn't work.

I'm laughing hard enough that I struggle to breathe, and I let my head thump back against the tatami mat as Takumi lays parallel across Souta and I. "Don't go callin' me -chan," Takumi orders, but he's grinning to hard for me to take him seriously. "Or else I'll go using -cchi for you guys!"

"Soutacchi? Soucchi?" I furrow my eyebrows. "That doesn't work, Takumi-chan."

"Maybe not for Souta, but it does for you — _Nagicchi._ "

I cringe. "Please don't do that —"

"You don't like it? Then maybe Gi-chan—"

I poke his side roughly and he yelps. "Don't you _dare_ — that sounds like the kind of name you'd give a cat!"

"Neko-chan," Souta mumbles, snickering, and I poke him as well. "Nagicchi is cute, though … let's name the class plant Nagicchi."

I groan, laying the back of my arms over my eyes. "You guy are gonna make me the laughing stock of the class … fine. I won't call you Takumi-chan — but you gotta _never_ say Gi-chan or Nagicchi again. Ever."

"Ever?" Takumi pretends to pout. "Fine. Then you better not call me Takumi-chan ever again either!"

I hold out my pinky, and when he holds out his own we recite the chant before pulling apart. Takumi doesn't move from his laying position, and Souta pats his head. "So, um … when will you get off?"

"Eugh, Souta-kun is right. And you're crushing me," I say, huffing dramatically. "Get _off._ "

Takumi's mother chooses that exact moment to enter the room, and Takumi immediately scrambles off the two of us. "Takumi-chan, why don't you walk your friends home now?"

" _Mom!_ " He whines, and she smiles.

"Oops — I mean, Takumi- _kun._ Come on, it's getting late; the police force will get angry if they catch you out much later."

Reluctantly Takumi agrees. As it turns out, my apartment is closer than the orphanage, and I wave to the two of them before heading up the stairs and fishing my key from my pocket.

" _Tadaima_ ," I call out, when I see Genma's sandals already laid out. "Are you in your room?"

There's a muffled sound from that general direction, and I leave my own sandals in the genkan before heading to my room to drop my bag off. Genma's door is shut when I approach, and I knock twice before opening it up.

"You have fun?" he asks, when I crawl up onto his bed and lean into his side. He's reading a novel or something.

"Mhm." I glance at the table. "Who was the man you were with earlier?"

"Yamanaka-san?" Genma replies. "He's … a friend, I suppose."

I raise an eyebrow. "A friend? But you used his last name."

"Well, he's not the kind of friend I'd bring out to eat," he muses. "Think of him as a work-friend."

I raise an eyebrow. "Soooo … you go on missions with him?"

The senbon flicks up. "You got it."

I hum. Then I reach up at the senbon. Genma allows me to take it, and I poke the edge carefully. "Can I throw it?"

"As long as it isn't at me," he replies. I glance at the dartboard on the wall and raise my hand, squinting at the board. Genma watches in amusement, and a few seconds pass before he comments, "Throwing involves moving your arm."

I huff, pressing my free hand against his cheek. " _Tsumetai te no jutsu.*_ "

Genma snorts, not shying away from my cold hand, and I look back at the dart board. I'm careful not to poke myself with the senbon as I climb over my brother, and then I raise my arm and toss the senbon.

Well, I toss it, but not like you're supposed to; I throw it overhand, like you would a pencil or a ball, and it … flips. Genma stares at me for a long moment before shutting the book at smacking me softly with it.

"You better go find that," he says lightly, "because if I step on it, I'll make you run four extra laps on Sunday."

Immediately I hop off the bed with a, "I'm looking!" thrown over my shoulder, and Genma laughs again before returning to his book.

* * *

Summers in Konoha are agony; especially in the Academy, where there's no air conditioning and windows are everywhere. When August rolls around we're let out of class for two weeks, and I immediately decide to spend almost all of it on the floor in front of a fan.

My brother leaves on a mission the first day of the break, and when the telltale knocking begins at noon I don't move from my place on the floor.

"Nagisa-chan!" Takumi yells, and I flinch. "Come on, I know you're in there!"

 _Maybe they'll go away,_ I think, rolling a few spaces to a colder part of the floor. _I refuse to leave my house on the first day of break._

No more knocking comes, and I sigh in relief, my eyes slipping shut.

"Gi-chaan," Takumi draws out the sound and I groan. "Come on, Gi-chan — you can't hide forever!"

"Gi-chan, come out!" Souta joins in too, and I consider my options.

If I go to the door, they'll stop calling me by that god-awful nickname, but I'll have to go out in this _heat._

But if I ignore them, they're just going to use it even _more often._ Of course, I can always use the dreaded 'Takumi-chan', but that's just fueling the fire.

The banging resumes, and I reluctantly get to my feet, heading into my room to put on shorts before heading to the front door. I crack it open, and immediately the both of them nudge it open further.

"That took forever," Takumi complains. "What were you doing?"

"Ignoring you," I reply. I open the door a bit wider. "Come in — you're gonna let all the cold air out."

I resume my place on the floor, and Takumi looks down at me in amusement before taking a place beside me. Souta blinks.

"What are you guys doing?"

"It's death outside," I reply, waving my hand above my head. "This is the only cold place in the house … the least amount of windows in here." I tilt my head back. "Join us."

When the three of us are all stationed in front of the fan I sigh. "So, what did you guys want?"

"We were gonna go to the park, but now that I'm in front of a fan I don't really wanna move …" Takumi looks over at Souta. "Whadda'bout you?"

"Me too," Souta agrees. "Do you mind, Nagisa-chan? The orphanage's aircon is broken …"

I hum, contemplating it for a moment. "Alright," I finally say, "that's fine. My brother is a mission, so it'll just be us. Did you guys eat already?"

"Uh-huh," Takumi replies. "Souta?"

"Earlier … um, I am a bit hungry, though," he admits. "I was gonna suggest we get tsukemen, before we came in."

"Tsukemen? Where do they serve that?" I drape my arm across my face as Takumi talks, using my free hand to adjust the level the fan is on. "I didn't bring any money with me."

Souta shrugs. "It was just a thought … I'm not that hungry anyways."

I listen to their conversation half-heartedly, contemplating whether or not I should share the remaining mochi ice cream in the freezer with them. It's not like I can eat them all on my own, but …

Reluctantly I get up, making my way to the kitchen. I pull open the freezer, opening the package and checking how many are left.

If we all just have one, then that'll leave two for my brother whenever he gets home — and I won't look like a bad host.

"You guys want one?" I ask, bringing the tray with me as I re-enter the room. "It'll help with the heat."

"Thanks," they both chime, taking one of them. I make a trip back to the kitchen to put them away, grabbing a small plate and chopsticks as I go.

Souta looks at me curiously as I sit back down. "What's with the chopsticks?"

"They're too cold for my fingers," I say simply, picking the mochi up and taking a bite. "Do you guys want chopsticks too?"

"No way!" Takumi has the decency to not shove the entire thing in his mouth, thankfully, but I wince when I catch sight of the food in his mouth. "That's so weird; it's not even that cold."

I squint at him. "But when it melts, then it doesn't get on your hands," I argue. "So you don't have to wash them."

Smugly, Takumi responds, "Just eat it fast; then it definitely won't get on your hands."

"Gross …" I mumble, before turning to look at Souta. "What do you think?"

He shrugs. "I don't really care … either way works fine, right? As long as you can get it in your mouth, that's all that's important!"

" _Exactly."_

Nearly a minute passes as we eat, and it isn't until I get up to put the plate and chopsticks in the sink that Souta asks, "Nagisa-chan?"

"Huh?"

"If your big brother is gone, then who takes care of you?"

I blink. "I do. Isn't that obvious?"

"D'ya know how to cook then?" Takumi asks. "What do you eat while he's gone?"

Souta frowns. "Isn't it dangerous to leave you alone?"

I return to the room empty handed and cross my arms over my chest. "Huh? Of course not. Why?"

"Man …" Takumi sighs, "you're so lucky. My parents won't let me stay home by myself ever. They say I'm i-rre-spon-si-ble."

He enunciates each syllable slowly, as if he's struggling to say it properly, and I hide a grin. "Well, that's 'cus you are, Takumi- _chan."_

Takumi glares at me, and Souta watches me with wide eyes as he asks, "Nagisa-chan … don't you get scared, though?"

I pause. "Of what?"

"Well …" Souta frowns. "Like … like the dark. Or of monsters."

For a second, I'm tempted to laugh. Monsters and the dark — seriously? If only those could be the things that I truly fear … that would make my life so, _so_ much easier.

But I stop myself before I can even grin — _This is a little boy,_ I remind myself. _He hasn't lived through and died in another life … or at least, he doesn't remember doing so. Five year olds fear things like the dark and monsters._

So, instead, I give a sheepish, barely masked chuckle. "Ah … well, not really," I admit. "The dark is comforting."

"But — but you can't see what's in the dark!" Souta argues, his eyes still wide. "What if there's something in there?"

Takumi snorts. "Are you afraid of getting eaten by monsters?"

Souta huffs. "Aren't you?"

"Huh? No way!" Takumi retorts. "I'm not afraid of anything!"

I raise an eyebrow. "Then why'd you scream when the spider fell on your head last week?"

"I — well —!" his cheeks flush red, and he huffs. "It just _surprised_ me is all! I wasn't scared!"

"Uh-huh."

"Hey — you don't gotta say it like that!" Takumi cries, and when he catches my grin he whines. " _Nagisa-chan_!"

I break out into a small fit of giggles. "S-Sorry, sorry," I gasp out, "don't worry, Takumi-kun; I won't tell anyone you're scared of spiders. And neither will Souta-kun — right?"

"Right! But that means you can't tell anyone our fears either." His face scrunches up in thought suddenly. "Hey … Nagisa-chan; if you're not afraid of the dark or monsters, then what _are_ you afraid of?"

I pause, my throat suddenly dry. I think back to the white world — the emptiness, the horrible feeling of being _lost_ and not in terms of location, but … losing yourself. I think of the hollow spaces in my brain, where memories and dreams have been ripped away and lost forever.

I think of meditation; how the fear of losing everything plagues me, even as I force myself to block it out and pretend that I'm not crying after it's all over.

"I don't know," I finally reply, my voice wavering.

I think of the scraps of memories that I wish had flown away with the others, before firmly squashing those thoughts away and forcing a smile as I lie, "Well … maybe of falling off a bridge."

"A … bridge?"

"Because all my bones would break," I elaborate, "and it'd hurt a lot. … I guess I'm scared of pain, too."

Takumi sighs. "Everyone's afraid of pain, though."

"I guess so," I reply, and say nothing else about the subject.

* * *

There's something horribly wrong with my brother when he walks through the door, five days after he left for his mission.

"Big brother?" I start tentatively, when he sheds his sandals and enters into the main room. "Are you OK?"

He doesn't respond; simply comes over, collapses on the ground beside me, and pulls me into a tight hug. Initially I'm startled, but quickly regain my composure and bring my arms up to hug him back.

He breathes in shakily, and I can feel his body trembling violently as he struggles to keep his composure. "Brother?" I try again.

Nothing. Tears pull at my eyes, and I bury my face in his shoulder, hating how worthless I feel. Genma's breaths are uneven, as if he's struggling not to cry, and I suddenly feel ten times worse for actually crying.

"Did something bad happen?" My voice is wobbly. "Please — please tell me, big brother … I-I don't wanna see you sad."

I realize his senbon is missing when he finally says, "You … you have to promise me something, Nagisa."

"What? What is it?"

He shakes his head. "No matter what — no matter what happens, don't ever join Anbu."

"Anbu? Why?"

"Just … don't. Don't do it, alright? Promise me."

His voice is firm, and reluctantly I nod. "Alright … I promise."

It's not like I really had plans of becoming an Anbu, anyways; first of all, I'd have to live long enough for that, and I highly doubt that's going to happen. Second of all, well … Anbu do dirty work. It's obvious that whatever mission my brother was sent off on was awful — this kind of reaction has never happened before.

"You won't tell me?" I ask, after a short silence. "I won't tell anyone — I promise! You can — you can put a seal on me so I don't talk … you'll know for sure I won't tell anyone that way!"

Genma shakes his head, and my body slumps. "I'm sorry," he mumbles, "I'm sorry — dammit, dammit …"

He continues muttering some other things, and I simply stay silent, pressing my forehead against his shoulder and trying to offer as much comfort as I can. After awhile, he collapses back against the couch, removing his headband and running a hand through his hair.

"Where is your senbon?" I hesitantly ask.

My brother doesn't open his eyes. "In a body," he finally says, after a few seconds of silence, and I let the topic drop.

"Big brother?"

Genma's eyes flicker to me, and I take his hand in my own, running my fingers across his palm. "Can I sleep with you tonight?"

Wordlessly he nods, and I lean my head against his side, sighing. "I'm sorry I can't help …"

"No," he replies, but his voice is off and I can hear exhaustion threaded between the words, "you help a lot more than you realize, kid."

* * *

Although Genma acts normal the next day, there's a heaviness to his motions that lets me know that something is still bothering him. Still, I don't prod him for answers about the mission itself — on top of being classified, it's obvious that he doesn't want to talk about it to me.

Still, I can't help but ask, "Can you retire from Anbu?" the next day at dinnertime.

"You can," Genma responds, "but most people end up returning sooner or later."

I stare down at my plate, wordlessly placing my chopsticks down and scooting my chair back. "Why don't you retire?"

There's a stretch of silence, and I swallow dryly.

"It's … not always that easy," he finally admits, "when you do something long enough, it's not as simple as quitting anymore."

"But — you won't be quitting," I mumble. "You'll still be a ninja … but you won't have to do bad things anymore."

Immediately I realize that came out wrong — but before I can attempt to correct myself Genma does it for me. "Nagisa — no matter the rank, a lot of things ninja do are still bad."

"I — I know," I say lamely. "I didn't mean it like that … I just — I meant that …" I huff out a breath. "Yesterday you were so upset because of your mission; it had to have been really bad. But if you stop being in Anbu, then maybe … maybe the missions won't be so bad."

Genma stares at me, and I meet his gaze with only a small amount of trepidation. Hopefully I didn't take it too far —

Then, he looks away, pressing a hand to his forehead. " … Maybe … I hope so."

The rest of our dinner is eaten in silence, and I make an effort to finish everything on my plate for once just in hopes that, with the extra time, Genma will decide to talk about _something_ with me.

Unfortunately, though, the silence continues and I fall back onto the couch when the dishes are done, staring up at the ceiling dully.

"Big brother?" I start, when the silence has become unbearable. "Can I ask a question?"

"You just did," he offers in response, and I crack a small smile. At least he's able to joke still.

I begin working my way through the hand seals idly. "What are you afraid of?"

Genma is silent for a long while, and I begin to wonder if I shouldn't have asked. Before I can take it back, though, my brother sighs.

"What kind of question is that?" he asks, but reluctantly answers, "There are a lot of things I'm afraid of … being unable to protect those close to me, being a burden on my friends and family — being useless, especially." He pauses. "Why do you ask?"

I shrug. "I don't know. … Are you afraid of dying?"

"Deep down," he starts, "I think everyone is."

I squeeze my eyes shut, swallowing hard. "What if you did?"

"What?"

"What if you did die?" I sit up, drawing my knees to my chest and staring at the wall across from me. "And you woke up someone else, and everyone you knew was gone? If you had to live another life with none of the people you loved before?"

Genma frowns, taking a seat beside me on the couch. "Where is this coming from?" He asks, and I shrug.

"Takumi-kun asked me," I lie. "I just … I've been thinking about it for awhile."

If he knows I'm lying, he doesn't say anything, instead laying his arms across the back of the couch and leaning back. "I think … it'd be a difficult situation," he replies, after a moment of thought. "Being torn away from everything you know. But, most people who believe in reincarnation acknowledge that those memories will be wiped clean," he tells me. "You wouldn't have to worry about that, since you wouldn't remember that past life anyways."

"… I see." I stretch my legs out, going through the seals again. "Did you know," I start, changing the subject, "that only five people in my kunoichi class knew what a henge is?"

"Five including you?" My brother assumes, and I nod. "Well, you're all still first years after all. They don't even start on you kids on chakra theory until your second year."

"Was it like that when you were in the Academy?"

Genma pauses. "Yes," he finally responds, "but everything was much more rushed. During war, the village doesn't have the privilege of taking their time."

"So they'll use as much time as they can to teach academy students now," I conclude, laying my hands flat on my thighs. "Does that mean we'll be _better_ than your class because we got a longer time to learn?

Genma snorts, and some of the tightness in my chest starts to recede. He reaches out to ruffle my hair, replying, "Only if you guys train harder than we did."

I grin. "Well _I_ definitely will." There's a short pause, and I take a deep breath before asking, "Are you feeling better now?"

"… Yes, I'm alright," my brother responds slowly. "I'm sorry for worrying you, Nagisa."

I shake my head, wrapping my arms around his stomach and giving him a somewhat awkward side hug. "You don't gotta apologize … be nice to yourself, OK?"

"Where's this coming from?" Genma asks, both amused and surprised, and I detach myself from him so I can slide off the couch.

"From _ex-per-i-ence,_ "I draw the word out, forcing the grin back to my face. "Trust me, 'kay?"

"Whatever you say," Genma acquiesces, and I retreat to my room to work on the work we were assigned over the break.

* * *

 ***Tsumetai te no jutsu: "Cold hand jutsu"; Nagisa was making a joke, not actually using a jutsu.**

 **A/N: Hmm, not really much to say about this chapter. It was very easy for me to write, even though I'm not entirely satisfied with the last quarter of it or so, but there's no point in holding back from uploading.**

 **Thanks to those of you who reviewed last chapter; please continue to review, it really motivates me to write quickly! I try to respond to all the non-guest comments I get if there's a question, so feel free to ask. As long as it isn't a spoiler, I'm happy to answer.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	6. Academy: Chapter 5

**Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto**

 **Note to readers: I've changed both Souta's and Nagisa's birthday months around in order to fix some problems with their ages. It's not a drastic change, but the past chapters have been edited to reflect this change. Nagisa's birthday is now in January (originally November), while Souta's is is November(originally July). Preferably, I wanted to make Nagisa's birthday a bit later, but this is the latest I could get it without messing up the plot.**

 ***slightly edited the last part in terms of dialogue and wording; I uploaded this fairly late after finishing it about 10 minutes beforehand and the last scene was conveying something different than I wanted it to.**

* * *

As the New Year approaches, Genma and I set up braided straw ropes in the entrance of the apartment after finishing our end of the year cleaning. New Year in Konoha is a fairly big deal, to the point where we Academy students get a five day holiday break to celebrate it.

There are various shrines scattered across the village, and, with Genma's permission, on New Year's day I make my way to Takumi's house about an hour before we're planning to head to the shrine. Takumi answers the door, already dressed in his own kimono. "Ah — Nagisa-chan! You're late!"

"Nuh-uh," I argue, sliding out of my sandals and swinging my bag at him, "don't lie! I'm on time and you know it."

Takumi huffs, but doesn't argue. "Well, mom's waiting for you already," he says, grasping my free hand and pulling me further into the house. "Where's your brother?"

"He's gonna meet us at the shrine, apparently—" I peek into the sitting room as we pass it. "Is Souta meeting us as well?"

"Mhm." He leads me up the stairs, shuffling awkwardly in his kimono, and I snicker, leading him to send a half-hearted glare over his shoulder before calling out, "Mom, Nagisa-chan is here!"

Takumi all but shoves me through the door after opening it, and I barely have enough time to turn around before he slams the sliding door shut with a laugh. "Y'better hurry, or I'll eat all the snacks without you!"

I stick my tongue out, despite knowing it'll do no good, before quickly composing myself. I turn, offering a small bow to Takumi's mother. "Ah — um, thank you for helping me today."

She laughs. "Of course. New Year is a special occasion after all."

I eye her kimono; it's obvious she knows how to put them on … I doubt Takumi did his own his own. As I remove my own kimono from my bag, laying the parts out on the floor in front of us, I begin to strip out of my day clothes.

"So, your big brother really doesn't know how to put on a kimono?" she starts, after I've pulled on the undershirt. "What have you done during _Shichi-go-san_ and the past New Years?"

"He has nice friends," I reply, doing my best not to squirm as she slides the fabric onto my body. "They always tie the obi too tight, though."

She chuckles, and I push my arms through the sleeves. "Does your brother wear a kimono for New Years, then?"

"Uh-huh. His isn't all fancy like this one, though. He just does a normal … thing with the obi." I wobble slightly.

She hums, wrapping the first part of the obi around my waist as she asks, "Did you eat soba last night, Nagisa-chan?"

I nod. "Takumi-kun didn't want to stay up," she tells me, and I huff when she tugs a bit too tightly. "He fell asleep _so_ early, papa had to wake him up three separate times. The only time he didn't complain is when it was time to eat."

"Heh — my big brother wanted to sleep, too," I reply, wiggling my toes. "He got invited to visit the shrine last night, but stayed home because he was too tired."

It's pretty common for active duty — and generally older — ninja to visit shrines on the actual night of New Year, while the morning visits are for younger people, civilians, and the ones who have kids.

Or, in my brother's case, those people who are too lazy to leave the house at midnight.

When she finishes tying the obi, Takumi's mom moves onto fixing my hair. I wince, forcing myself not to move away when she tugs a bit too hard.

She finishes after a while longer, offering me a hand mirror to look, and I blink. _Wow._

"I look nice," I say, without really thinking, and immediately clamp my mouth shut. "Uh — um, thank you for helping me."

"Of course, Nagisa-chan." She smiles softly, before patting me on the back. "Now, why don't you go hang out with Takumi and get something to eat?"

It feels more like I'm waddling than walking as I make my way back to the sitting room, and Takumi waves from his place on the floor, pushing a bowl and chopsticks in my direction. "Dad got you some ozoni," he says, biting off a piece of the mochi.

"How do you know I haven't already eaten?" I shoot back, grabbing the chopsticks.

Takumi just rolls his eyes. "I know you didn't. And even if you did, dad would'a still gotten you some."

I stick my tongue out, but don't argue against that. "I hope Souta-kun won't be late," I say offhandedly, poking at one of the mochi pieces in the soup. "Does he even know the way?"

"I thought he said a girl from the orphanage was bringing him?" Takumi replies. "Or something like that."

"Still …"

I finish about half the soup before Takumi's parents decide it's time to leave, and even though it's still fairly early there are still plenty of people out, making their way to the shrine.

"Man, it's _freezing,"_ Takumi whines, hopping around as much as he can. "Nagisa-chan, how can you just _stand there_? Aren't you cold?"

I grin, holding my hands out to him. "Nope. But I'll warm you up—"

—and then I smack my palms against his cheeks. He shrieks in surprise and I cup his cheeks firmly, giggling when he squirms. "Nagisa- _chan!_ That's cold! _"_

"Now you can only get warmer," I say, before pulling them away. "Now you gotta say _'thank you, Nagisa-chan.'"_

"No way!" He huffs, crossing his arms with a glare. "I'll get you back for that, _Nagicchi._ "

"I'll do it again," I say, wiggling my fingers menacingly, and Takumi just glares even harder.

"Geez, though … your hands are really cold," he admits, as we follow the crowds. Takumi's parents are a few paces behind us. "Maybe you should have brought mittens or something."

I look down at my hands. "But I don't own mittens."

"Really?" He frowns. "Then I'll lend you mine."

I blink. "Why?"

" _Because_ ," he stresses, "if your hands are always cold, you'll keep putting them on my face and making _me_ cold."

"It's not my fault your cheeks are warm," I shoot back, pressing my palms against the underside of my chin in an attempt to warm them up. "Did you start on the homework yet?"

Souta is already at the shrine when we arrive, hanging out with — surprisingly — Midori and some other girls that I don't recognize, along with two boys. Souta's face lights up when he sees the both of us. Takumi's parents shoo us away, and I glance out into the crowd in an attempt to find my brother.

There's no sign of him _or_ his friends, and Midori offers a wave when I approach. "Midori-chan?" I start, frowning slightly. "I thought you graduated — aren't you a Genin now?"

"Mhm!" She nudges the boys. "These are my teammates — Kentaro," the taller one waves, "—and Tomoya."

Tomoya barely spares a glance at us, almost immediately dropping his head so that his fringe can hide his face. "Ah — he's kinda shy," Midori explains, smiling apologetically. "But don't worry; they're both really nice."

"Why'd you pick up Souta-kun, though?" I ask, blinking. "He said someone from the orphanage was gonna bring him."

Souta huffs slightly. "Minami-san ditched me," he mumbles. "So I asked Midori-chan when she came to visit Kinako a few days ago."

"Who's Kinako?" Takumi asks. "Isn't that a kind of flour?"

Midori giggles. "Kinako-chan is a cat that lives near the orphanage; the matron wouldn't let anyone keep her inside, but she hangs around because everyone feeds her snacks."

"Oh …"

Midori's teammate — Kentaro, I believe — nudges her. "Hey, are we gonna get our fortunes? We've been waiting forever now."

"Oh — right," Midori agrees. "You guys gonna come with us? Or go on your own?"

I exchange a look with Takumi and Souta, and both of them shake their heads. "No," I finally answer. "We'll go on our own."

"Alright! Make sure to pray before you leave," the older girl tells us, before offering a smile and heading on her way. Some of the girls follow after her, while others split off into their own little group.

Souta yawns. "It's been kinda lonely without Midori-chan being at the orphanage," he mumbles. "She hasn't been there since September, but … I can't get used to it."

"It's just what happens," I reply with a shrug. "Since she's a Genin now, she can't stay in the orphanage. You'll have to move out too when you become a Genin."

"I know." Souta sighs heavily. "I don't wanna think about it."

Takumi snorts, punching the other boy in the shoulder softly. "Don't be such a baby."

"I'm not being a baby!" Souta shoots back, smacking at Takumi who somehow manages to dodge despite wearing a kimono. Takumi just laughs. "Although it's kinda mean, I'm glad that Midori-chan failed the spring exam and had to take the fall one. Don't let her know, though!"

I frown at that. "She'd be upset if she heard you say that, you know."

"I know — that's why you guys _can't_ tell her." Souta's eyes widen as he pleads, and I reluctantly agree. Takumi follows suit a few seconds later, and Souta's shoulders slump. "Midori-chan made it a lot easier for me to get used to the Academy … so that's the only reason I'm happy."

I pat his shoulder reassuringly, but say nothing else.

We wander around for a bit, looking at various stalls set up selling good luck charms and loitering around the food stalls set up right outside the shrine, but eventually the three of us make our way back into the shrine area.

A woman dressed in a kimono hands the box to Takumi, and he shakes it vigorously until a small wooden stick comes out. The woman gives him a strip of paper, and Takumi takes it eagerly before stepping to the side.

When both Souta and I have our own strips of paper, we open them.

I glance at the statement at the top — _shoukichi; could be worse I guess —_ before glancing at my friends. Takumi is chewing his bottom lip, and Souta seems to be struggling.

"I, um …" Takumi frowns. "Nagisa-chan, what does this say?"

I take his strip of paper, and immediately blink. Then I blink again.

"Um …" I hesitate. "You got small curse."

"Huh?" He snatches it back, practically ripping it. "What!? That's — ugh, not fair … I wanted something better this year." He turns to Souta, who hasn't lifted his eyes from the paper. "What about Souta-kun's?"

I move over to his side, peaking at the fortune when he doesn't offer it to me. "Blessing."

"Well, I guess it could be worse," he says. "Hey, Nagisa-chan — can you read all this stuff?" he points at the text below the fortune; the part that details how the new year is going to be for you.

I shake my head. "I don't think so … maybe my brother can read it for you. He's super good at kanji," I tell him.

"OK," Souta agrees. "What was your fortune, Nagisa-chan?"

"Small blessing," I reply, a small grin coming to my face. "So it looks like Takumi-kun is the only one who has to tie his fortune!"

Takumi growls. "This is so unfair — I'm gonna draw again!"

"Nuh-uh," I argue, quickly looping my arm into his and tugging him forward. "You'll only get something worse — a _great curse_."

Souta giggles, grasping Takumi's other arm and helping me pull the boy away from the box. "A great curse would ruin your life, Takumi-kun."

"Ruin my life … agh," he groans. "Fine, fine — I won't take another one. Now lemme go already!"

We don't release him until we reach the wooden branches. There are hundreds of omikuji already tied on, and Takumi reluctantly adds his as well, muttering a quick, " _Itadakimasen_ ," under his breath before sighing heavily. "Are you sure I can't take another?" he asks, only half-heartedly as we line up behind some other people. "Last year, my cousin took six in a row!"

"Bad, bad, bad," I chide, shaking my head at him. "Doesn't your cousin know only the first one counts? When you pick lots of omikuji, it makes the one next year even worse."

Souta tilts his head. "Really? I've never heard that before."

Takumi squints at me, and I grin. "She's messing with us," he finally huffs. "No way that's true."

"If you don't believe me, you can find out yourself," I offer. Takumi crosses his arms over his chest, and my grin grows. "Or … do you believe it?"

"I'm not gonna pick another one!" he finally snaps. "It'll be hard to find another place to tie it on, so it'll just waste time — I don't believe what you said, though."

I shrug. "OK, whatever you say Takumi-chan~"

When he lunges at me I use my hands as a shield, somehow managing to sneak them behind his neck, pulling a squeak from his throat as his shoulders instinctively scrunch up.

"I — I'll get you back for that," he states, shivering when I pull my hands away. "It's so cold …"

Souta looks at me oddly. "Your hands are cold?" he asks, and I shrug.

"They're always cold."

His frown grows, and he seems to think hard about something for a moment before his hands reach out and take mine; I'm shocked by the temperature difference. "There," he starts, grinning slightly. "Now they won't be as cold!"

I blink. "Uh — thanks," I manage to force out, despite my surprise. "But your hands are gonna get cold if you hold mine. Don't you care?"

He shakes his head.

An hour later we've all finished our prayers and are lounging outside the shrine, each of us holding a sweet potato in hand.

"Hey, Nagisa-chan," Souta starts, taking a bite off his potato, "you said your birthday is in January, right? What day is it?"

I hum. "The sixteenth; but it's not really important."

"Not important? But it's your birthday!" Takumi exclaims, practically squishing his sweet potato in his hand. "You'll finally be the same age as both of us."

I shrug, picking at the skin of the potato absent mindedly. "I guess … I just really don't care about my birthday," I admit.

And it's true — I really could care less about getting older. Getting older just means I'm one step closer to dying; one step closer to having everything fall apart, having the peace shattered.

I've had enough birthdays in my past life that, even if I don't remember them, it doesn't matter anymore to me.

"Speaking of birthdays," I finally say, "when's your birthday, Takumi-kun?"

"March second," he replies, puffing his chest out in pride. "I'll be seven this year — isn't that awesome?"

I take a bite of my potato in an attempt to gain time to think of a response, but Souta thankfully saves me by saying, "We can have a party then!"

"A party with just us?" Takumi asks, and when Souta nods he swings his feet rapidly. "Hm … OK — yeah! Let's have a party for my birthday!"

Takumi's parents find us a bit later, right as we're finishing up our potatoes, and I'm surprised to see my brother and his friends — along with some others I don't recognize — trailing behind the pair. I wave to him, beaming when he waves back, and offer a quick, "Be right back," before hurrying to my brother.

"What was your fortune this year?" I ask excitedly, ignoring the fact that I can _feel_ his friend's stares on my back. "I got small blessing."

Genma grins. "Great blessing was mine."

"Wow —" my eyes widen. "Will you read the rest of my fortune for me when I get home? I can't understand how it's written."

"Of course," my brother replies. "Are you heading back with your friends? Or would you rather come with me?"

I pause for a moment, turning to look at the rest of his group. There's Gai and Aoba of course, along with Raido, Asuma, Kurenai, and a few that I don't recognize off the top of my head. "Um …" I shake my head. "No, it's OK, I'll go with Takumi-kun. When should I come home at?"

"Did you bring your key with you?" I nod, watching the senbon shift to the other side of his mouth before he finishes, "Then just come come whenever you feel like it. I might not be back until late, though."

"'Kay." I swing my arms at my side, shooting another look at his friends before forcing a small smile. "Have fun!"

Genma laughs. "I should be telling _you_ that." He waves his hand towards Takumi and them. "Now, go on already, have fun with your friends before the break ends."

* * *

When we come back from the short break, the lessons ramp up in terms of difficulty. I'm able to keep up rather easily — it'd be sad if I couldn't — but Takumi ends up having a lot more trouble than usual.

The rankings are pretty unstable for the first two weeks, and I quickly find myself busy helping both Takumi and Souta keep up. Souta's ranking drops down to five by the time my birthday rolls around.

I don't dread the date anymore, but it's not something I actively look forward to either. This year Genma is on a mission during it — he apologized profusely before leaving for it, despite my insisting that it really isn't a big deal.

When I wake up that morning, though, my throat is sore and dry.

 _Shit,_ I realize, as I break out into a rapid fit of coughs that leaves me with a pounding headache, _I'm getting sick._

I feel my forehead, but it really does no good considering how cold my hands are. After brushing my teeth and hair, I strip from my pajamas and into my normal clothes, dragging a hand across my face as I slouch down on the couch.

No dizziness, no nausea, no vomiting — not the flu, thankfully. The headache is bearable, as is the sore throat, and I pick up the mug I used last night and move to the kitchen to fill it up with water.

It burns my throat, and I shove my head inside the fridge for a few seconds before reluctantly shutting the door. According to the clock, I still have a good hour before I need to be at the Academy.

I make sure that everything is in my bag, double checking my homework is put away in the right spot and that my pencils are all there, before hefting it to my shoulders. I grab the keys from the drawer, along with the ryo pouch Genma gave me before he left, and leave the apartment.

I buy a pre-made bento on my way, tucking it away in my bag alongside the money pouch. The streets are mostly empty this early, and I take my time walking, passing various shops and food stands on my way.

A chill runs down my back, and suddenly I find myself wishing I'd worn a warmer jacket. The thin fabric of the one I'm wearing does almost nothing to help with wind chill.

 _I wonder how long this cold will last,_ I muse, kicking a stray pebble. It bounces off the wall of a flower shop. _I hope it's gone by the time Genma gets back … when is he coming back, anyways?_

Considering it's already been two days, he probably won't be back until the end of the week — four days is plenty of time to get over a cold.

I'd rather die than let him know that the _one time_ I get sick is when he's on a mission.

By the time I reach the academy I'm shivering like a leaf. There's still a little less than thirty minutes left until classes start, so I make my way to the classroom and slouch down in my usual bench, letting my face rest against the cool wood.

I doze off for awhile, waking up a bit when a few more people fill the room. It isn't until a body is slamming down into the space beside me and pulling me into a suffocatingly tight hold that I fully wake up.

"Happy birthday!" Takumi all but shouts, and I groan in pain. The action hurts my already sore neck. "C'mon, wake up already Nagicchi! It's your _birthday!"_

I shove him off me, making sure to put my hand over the bare skin of his cheek. "Don't call me that," I order, but my voice is laced with grogginess. "You're being so _loud …"_

"Where's Souta-kun?" I ask, peaking around him in search of the other boy. "He's usually here before you."

Takumi shrugs, dropping his things on the desk. "'Dunno. I left early today — here!" He shoves something into my arms, and I blink in surprise. "I know you're not supposed'ta open presents in front of people, but I want you to anyways."

I shrug, but lift the top of the small box off and glance inside. Then I blink.

"Oh — …" I pull the mittens out, blinking. "Wow, these are nice." I slide them onto my hands, unable to keep the grin off my face. "Thank you, Takumi-kun."

He grins back, swinging his feet and letting his heels smack against the wood behind them. "Hehe — of course! Now you won't have to use me and Souta-kun to keep your hands warm."

"Don't think these'll stop me," I say threatening. Souta chooses that moment to step through the classroom doors, hurrying up the steps to our bench and sliding in beside Takumi.

"Nagisa-chan, happy birthday!" he greets, thankfully quite a bit quieter than Takumi's exclamation. "We're all six, now! Although soon Takumi-kun is gonna turn seven," he mutters, a bit disappointed.

Takumi shrugs, leaning back and looping his hands behind his head. "We can only be the same age for only a month," he points out.

"A month and fourteen days," I correct. "You gotta be exact Takumi-chan."

The glare he directs in my direction makes me laugh.

Maybe it's because I'm getting sick, but it almost feels like the day is dragging on as Takeo-sensei lectures. PE is especially brutal, as I'm forced to remove the gloves and leave them in my bag, and my legs feel horribly heavy as we're running.

I firmly clasp my hands around Souta's forearm when he rolls his sleeves up to reach for something and he barely jumps, instead just offering a surprised look. He's not nearly as dramatic as Takumi, who always whines when I use him to warm up my hands.

Honestly, Takumi acts more like I've dropped a bucket of ice water on him — leading me to, for the most part, only use him as a heater when he's being irritating or when Souta isn't around.

It works incredibly well.

"What are you gonna do for your birthday, Nagisa-chan?" Souta asks, when we're back in the classroom. "Didn't you say your brother went on another mission a few days ago?"

"Mm … uh-huh." I slide the gloves back on my hands, wiggling my fingers. "I dunno. We have some instant noodles?"

Takumi frowns. "You can't eat ramen on your birthday," he points out. "Why don't you come over to my house? Mom and dad won't care."

"Huh?" I look at him strangely. "Why would I come over …? Did your mom invite me?"

"Well — no," Takumi starts, "but she wouldn't care either way! Besides, she knows it's your birthday."

"If she didn't invite me, I can't come over," I say offhandedly. "It's rude to just show up at someone's house and expect them to accommodate you."

"What does _a-ccommodate_ mean?" Souta asks.

I hum. "It means to make room for someone."

"I already said that my mom wouldn't care," Takumi grumbles. "She likes it when I have friends over."

Takeo-sensei is standing behind the podium, so I quickly reply, "Maybe some other time?" In a hushed voice.

I'm saved from dealing with Takumi's response when Takeo-sensei begins to lecture on kanji, and although my headache has returned and my throat is sore, I force myself to pay attention despite how hard it is.

* * *

"Well, you're definitely sick," Genma says, three days later, the day he returns from his mission. I've been laying in bed since I got home two hours ago. "How long have you been feeling ill?"

I sniffle. "A … few days, I think."

My brother hums, putting the thermometer down. "You've been going to class like this?"

"Of course," I reply with a huff. "Why would I —" I'm interrupted by a wet sounding cough bursting from my throat, "—w-would I stay home?"

He sighs, shaking his head. "So you can get _better?"_ His senbon clicks against his teeth. "You're lucky tomorrow is Sunday, but there's no way you'll be better by Monday."

"So?" I roll over, burying my head into my pillow and tugging my blankets further around my shoulders. "If I rest all day tomorrow, I'll be OK to go to school."

Genma doesn't respond for a moment. Then he sighs, smoothing my hair back away from my face before patting my head softly. "We'll see. I'll be back in a bit, but if you need me I'll be in the kitchen."

The door clicks behind him and I squeeze my eyes shut, breathing through my mouth and clutching at my stomach. Nausea has settled in my gut, each movement making me feel even worse, and the water only makes me feel like I'm going to start heaving.

Sick — of course I had to get _sick_ of all things. Earlier in the week, I'd assumed that it was just a cold and it'd go away on its own; but apparently I was wrong because here I am, three days later, with a full blown fever and chills to boot.

The fever I can deal with — hell, to an extent, I can even deal with the chills. But the nausea? No chance. There's nothing worse than moving the wrong way and feeling like you're going to throw up your internal organs.

The ceiling is bleary, and I let my eyes slip shut. My bones ache, my joints ache — my head is pounding and my eyes burn no matter how dark it is in the room. It's _miserable_ and I hate it.

I roll onto my back, my arm flopping against the edge of the bed. I breathe in slowly, shallowly, trying not to upset my stomach anymore than it already is, and by the time I've pushed the nausea back Genma has returned to the room, with a bowl of okayu in hand.

"I have a test Monday," I tell my brother as I reluctantly sit up, dragging my blanket with me as I slide off the bed and move to sit at the small table in my room. "I can't miss school."

"A test?" Genma asks, taking a seat as well after putting the bowl down in front of me. I take the spoon, poking at the okayu. "What's it on?"

I shrug. "Math … I think. It's something easy. Takumi is having trouble with it, though. His ranking keeps dropping."

"Hm." Genma watches me carefully. "It's not going to eat itself, you know."

"I know," I mumble, reluctantly raising a spoonful to my mouth and eating it. My stomach protests, but thankfully the porridge is rather bland, making it a lot easier to keep down. "I hate being sick."

"Understandable," my brother replies. "I don't think anyone enjoys being sick."

I say nothing, blinking rapidly. Back in my old life, I also hated being sick — it meant missing school and missing school meant I wouldn't have perfect attendance.

The few friends I'd made, on the other hand, didn't care about being sick — used it as an excuse to skip school. To not have to worry about waking up in the morning and attending classes for hours on end.

I didn't understand it; I still can't understand it, even in another life.

I shove another spoonful in my mouth in an attempt to distract myself. "I wish I was a ninja already," I say, my shoulders slumping. "I don't want to wait. I just want to get it over with."

"Get what over with?"

I shrug. "Learning. I'm so sick of it — I already know everything." The last part comes out much quieter, and I mentally scold myself. I'm talking too much; too freely.

I can't be so careless.

"You could probably skip a few years, to be honest," Genma admits. "Your sensei has mentioned it to me before."

I look up in surprise, and Genma offers an amused smile. "Are you actually surprised?"

"… No," I admit. "I just didn't know Takeo-sensei thought that. I'm not a prodigy."

And, honestly, I'm _not._ The only reason I know so much and am able to pick up on things so quickly is because of my past life. If I were truly reborn the way I was supposed to have been, there's no way I'd be the first in my class. There's no way I'd be a class ahead of where I'm supposed to be.

In my old life, I wasn't a prodigy either. I was never anything special, never anything extraordinary or worth paying attention to unless—

I cut that thought off immediately, angrily biting my lip when I feel tears push against my eyes. My chest is tight, and I swallow another spoonful in an attempt to distract myself. My eyes hurt. My hands are shaking, my ears are burning and my head is pounding and —

Genma pries the spoon from my fingers, putting it down softly and tugging me away from the table. I let my head slump against his chest, trying desperately to halt the tears and calm myself down. Why am I crying — why can't I _stop?_

"Come on," Genma mumbles softly, "you're alright. What's wrong?"

I hiccup. "I —" I stumble. "I feel — horrible," I manage to gasp out. "I don't — don't want this. I do-don't want to, I don't — I can't be sick. I _can't."_

At this point, though, I can't pull apart the lines — pull apart what's from the past and what's from this world. Everything's meshing together, destroying the carefully structured boundaries and boxes that I've placed everything into; why am I _crying?_

"Alright, alright," my brother repeats a few times, "let's try something else … Nagisa," he says my name firmly, "I want you to meditate."

Meditate — meditate. I won't forget; it'll be fine. I'll still exist in this world after it's all over, right? I have to; I can't disappear. I can't let it happen again.

I curl in on myself. I count to ten and focus on one thing — I force myself to relax and uncurl my toes. Relax my hand from a fist; breathe in deeply, release, repeat —

Smooth. It's like a wave, lapping against my toes and brushing against the sand.

My tears are gone; the lines are straightening, stabilizing themselves and pulling the torn pieces back and drawing the memories back into the neat and tight boxes they've been put in. Everything is in _place_ and it's fine, I'm fine —

I crack my eyes open, blearily pulling my head away from my brother's chest and rubbing my eyes with a fist. "I'm — sorry," I whisper. "I want to sleep. Can I — can I go to bed? Please."

"That's probably the best idea," Genma agrees, adjusting his hold on me before dropping me onto the bed. "Do you need anything?"

I shake my head. Then pause. "I —" I roll onto my side, curling into my blanket. "No."

Genma pulls the rest of my blankets over me before nodding. "Alright. Try and rest, alright? You won't be sick forever. I promise."

I try to smile, but I can't.

That night, the nightmares start.

* * *

Takumi finishes the first year with a rank just two spaces above the bottom ten of our class, while Souta comes in fourth and I come in first.

The three of us are early on the first day of our second year, and I stare out into the crowd of children outside the Academy, frowning slightly.

Out of the hundred or so children, I can't recognize any of them — no matter how hard I look, searching for Tenten, Neji, or even Lee, I can't catch any sight of them.

They're supposed to be here this year — meaning they have to be somewhere in the front of the group. Or in the middle; there's also the chance that they're going to join during the fall entry period.

I decide to keep an eye out regardless.

Much to my chagrin, some of the children are taller than me. I find this out when I barely swerve out of the way, avoiding being knocked down by another kid who I don't recognize.

"Poor Nagisa-chan," Takumi teases, swinging an arm over my shoulder as we walk towards our classroom, "shorter than almost all the first year students!"

I elbow his side, and he pulls away with a slight hiss. "They're my age," I point out, huffing. "And it's not _almost all_ of them; I'm taller than at least half!"

Souta hesitates, before reluctantly starting, "Actually, Nagisa-chan …"

My expression falls. Takumi, already recovered from my jab, laughs in amusement. "Aw, don't be sad about it Nagicchi," he doesn't even seem to notice my glare, "I'm sure you'll get taller soon. Maybe if you get a great blessing next year, you'll actually _grow."_

"I hate you," I whine. We take our seats in the usual bench, with about ten minutes to spare before class. The speech outside will start at the same time.

Our classroom is different this year; it's slightly smaller. Already, despite it only being one year, we've already had four people drop out of the class. That number is definitely going to go up soon, though.

"We get to start sparring and using weapons this year," Takumi reminds us. "Isn't that awesome? I'm so excited!"

"You just want an excuse to punch Tadashi-san without getting in trouble," Souta accuses. "Don't pretend it's not true."

Takumi shrugs. "Eh … well you're right, but it's not _just_ cuz' of that! This is — it's real ninja stuff! Learning taijutsu and how to throw kunai is stuff we'll use when we're _ninja_ , Souta-kun. Ninja! Real ninja!"

"They moved PE before lunch, though," I mumble with a groan. "Which means we'll have PE, and then lunch when we'll have to do _more_ exercise. I'm gonna be so tired …"

Both of them look at me, and I bury my face in my arms with a yawn. Ever since that day — back in January when I got sick, sleep has been … difficult.

The nightmares came out of nowhere, starting off small and growing as the weeks pressed on — and while I've figured out how to deal with them and block them out for the most part, they're still painful; they still scare me, set me on edge, but not to the point where I wake up trembling and sweating every night with a scream lodged in my throat and tears streaking my cheeks. Instead, I've just sort of become … desensitized, I suppose. The dreams still make my breath hitch, make me wake up with my heart pounding and hands shaking, but that's only half the time. Sometimes I'm even able to fall back asleep without having to crawl into my brother's bed.

The other half the time I can't even fall asleep in the first place until I've exhausted myself to the point where my eyes physically won't stay open any longer. The dreams tend to be worse, those times.

"You've got bags under your eyes," Takumi points out, when I lift my head. "They make you look old."

I huff. "I _am_ old."

"Nope," he chimes back, a small grin curling across his lips, "you're the youngest of all of us. Just a little baby compared to Souta-kun and me~"

I stick my tongue out at him. "You're lucky it's hot in here, or else I'd put my hands on your stomach again."

His eyes widen. "You wouldn't!"

I wiggle my fingers dangerously and Takumi latches onto Souta, trying to use him as protection while leaning away from me. I laugh, turning in my seat so that my back is against the wall and I'm facing him. "Souta-kun, how was your break?"

"Mm … it was OK," the boy replies. "I wish it was longer, though."

Takumi sighs in agreement. "Me too …" He turns to look at the class again, leaning forward so that his toes graze the floor. "I wonder how many people are gonna drop out this year," he muses. "I say ten."

I shake my head. "I bet it'll be more like five; most people who were able to do all the torture from last year's PE won't drop out because of sparring. It can't be any worse than the jumps." A shiver runs down my spine as I say that.

Souta puffs his cheeks out. "That's mean — you shouldn't be betting about people dropping out of the class!"

"Why not?" Takumi asks. "It's gonna happen anyways, even if we don't bet. It's not like it's gonna hurt anyone."

Souta struggles to think of a reply. "Well — it's —"

"Souta-kun," I start, my voice serious, "are you … thinking about dropping out?"

His eyes widen. "What? No! Why would I do that?"

I lean forward, making sure to keep my expression as serious as I can. "If you drop out, I'll hunt you down and make you run laps for the rest of your life."

"I'm not dropping out!" his voice squeaks in a way that makes it impossible for me to keep my facade up, and I promptly burst into a fit of giggles. Souta looks bewildered for a moment.

"I was — just kidding," I gasp out, leaning back into my usual position. "Heh — you're so easy to tease."

"That was mean," he whines. "You looked so serious there, I thought I'd done something wrong!"

I shake my head, twirling a strand of hair around my finger. "Well … you did do _something_ wrong," I start. "You're not betting with us."

Takumi giggles as well, and Souta shoots us both an exasperated look before he caves. "Fine … um, I guess I bet on five as well. I don't think ten'll drop out this year."

By the time Takeo-sensei begins class, the three of us have not only set our bets on how many people will drop out, but also _who_ will be dropping out. All on a piece of paper, with all three of our names signed at the bottom.

Our first lesson of the year is chakra theory, except the _advanced_ and _hands on_ version.

"This year, as many of you know, the curriculum is a bit different than before," Takeo-sensei starts. "You will learn to harness your chakra, learn how to use it and direct it to parts of your body — as well as learning about the three main jutsu you will need to learn to pass your genin exam."

" _However_ ," he stresses the word, "just because you're learning to use chakra does not mean you're ready to use _jutsu._ For now, it's forbidden — if I catch any of you trying while here, you'll receive an automatic detention. Understand?"

A chorus of _"Yes, sensei,"_ rings out across the room, and I stifle another yawn.

So, with that, the lecture on chakra begins, and for once I don't have to force myself to pay attention. Chakra theory was never something I bothered reading about in my free time, and it's definitely not something that I retained from my last life.

This is _new information._

That thought practically revitalizes me, managing to chase away my exhaustion for the time being. Sure, it's horribly boring, but — again, new info.

When Takeo-sensei is finished lecturing, he passes out worksheets to all of us. "After you've finished the worksheet, turn it in and get one leaf," he orders. "Eventually, you'll build up to having it stick to your forehead — but until you can make it stick to your palm without shredding it or letting it fall, you can't move onto that."

Inevitably, I end up having to help Takumi and Souta through the worksheet. We're not the first ones to finish, but we're definitely not the last ones which is good enough for me. Rather than follow Takumi and Souta back to our table, though, I stay in place, staring at Takeo-sensei.

He raises an eyebrow. "Do you need something, Nagisa-chan?"

I hold out my palm with the leaf on it, channeling enough chakra to keep it there before promptly flipping my hand upside down. "I can do it," I tell him. "Can I move onto the forehead?"

He blinks, as if he's stunned, though he quickly recovers. "Ah — yes, it seems like you've gotten the first step down," he acknowledges. "Go ahead and move on, then."

I beam. "Thanks, sensei."

"How'd you do that?" Takumi asks, his eyes widening. "You didn't even — you did it on your first try!"

I channel chakra to my forehead, making a small face. It's more difficult than my hand for sure. "I've been practicing with my chakra for awhile now," I tell him, as I lift the leaf to my forehead and press it against the skin.

It sticks for barely a second before slipping. I manage to catch it, adjusting my hold on it in an attempt to keep it there, but inevitably am unable to stop it. "The hands are pretty easy, once you get used to it."

It only takes me six more tries before I can hold the leaf on my forehead without any trouble, and by the tenth I can hold a conversation and doodle while still having it stick. Of course, this only lasts for a period of about ten seconds, but considering that no one in the class sans Kaede has gotten past sticking it to their hands, I consider it a victory.

I find out during PE class that, thankfully, we won't be sparring yet. For the next two weeks, we'll be learning the kata and basic punches and kicks. This is after we've all ran laps, of course, and are sweating like pigs.

Takumi pouts for awhile about it, but eventually gets over it when I remind him that they'll only make him do better in the spars.

Or at least, I think they will. They should, but you never know with him.

* * *

"Shiranui Nagisa and Kobayashi Tadashi," Sensei calls, and I can practically hear Takumi gritting his teeth in frustration. "You'll be first for today."

Tadashi takes his place directly across from me, and we both make the seal of confrontation. "Remember — first one to make a direct hit on their opponent wins."

When he calls out for us to start Tadashi immediately rushes towards me, his fist raised and aimed towards my face. I dive to the side, lashing a kick out that barely misses its target when he retreats back.

It goes on like that for nearly thirty seconds — punch, duck, kick, dodge; when I'm forced to practically do a backbend to avoid getting kicked in the throat — I've never been more thankful to be flexible —, I hiss in irritation and dig my hand into the ground.

I fall to the side and out of the backbend, catching myself on my hands, and when I jump to my feet I fling the dirt into his face. Tadashi cries out in surprise and I take the chance to land a hit to his stomach that makes him double over, wheezing in surprise. My chest is heaving, and I drag my hand across my jacket, trying to get the dirt off it.

"Th-That was dirty!" Tadashi cries out, turning to look at Takeo-sensei. "Sensei!"

Takeo-sensei simply shakes his head. "Ninja play dirty, Tadashi-kun; she still landed a solid hit on you. Winner is Shiranui Nagisa!"

I offer him a hand, and he reluctantly takes it; we both make the seal of reconciliation before moving back with the rest of the class. Takumi's eyes are wide as I return, and he practically bruises me with how hard he grabs my arms.

"I can't believe you did that!" He gasps in awe. "Why didn't I think of that? I wouldn't have lost yesterday if I'd done something like that!"

I laugh slightly, doing my best to wiggle out of his grip. "Eh — well, that's why I'm the smart one."

"Hey!" Takumi finally releases me, and stretches his arms behind his back as he says, "Too bad you're not gonna get to do that again. And neither will I," he bemoans.

"Well, not in here at least," I reply with a shrug.

Takumi goes up against Kaede four turns later and is out within fifteen seconds. Kaede is at the top of our class in terms of taijutsu — if it wasn't for the fact that I pull perfect scores on everything we turn in, she would probably be the one at the top of our class right now.

Takumi attempts the dirt trick, despite his earlier words, and although it doesn't work he still manages to buy himself an extra three seconds with it.

Souta wins his match, which causes Takumi to spend the rest of the day pouting. I pat his shoulder reassuringly when our last class ends.

"There's always tomorrow," I point out. "Kaede-chan is probably gonna be paired up with Souta or something next time."

Souta's cheeks flush. "Kaede-san is a lot better at taijutsu than I am, though."

"But you're still better than everyone else," I point out.

At the moment, Souta and Kaede are the best at taijutsu, though there's still an obvious difference in their levels. Kaede is an Uchiha — it's obvious she's already had some amount of training in taijutsu, while the rest of us haven't. Or at least, haven't got as much experience as her.

Souta comes up in second; he hasn't lost a match yet, excluding his first one, in the week that we've been doing them. I tend to lose about a third of my matches, which isn't bad considering I'm quite literally the smallest one in my class.

Takumi … is pretty awful at taijutsu, to be honest. He's not very flexible, and he doesn't have the best reflexes. He still wins, but it's fifty-fifty with him and it's completely dependent on who he's up against.

"Gotta go to kunoichi class," I tell them as we exit the classroom. "I'll see you later — don't forget to do the homework again, alright?"

Both of them call back with something that can be vaguely interpreted as a _"yeah, we won't"_ if you really try. I make it halfway down the hall before I'm stopped by a small voice calling out.

"Um … excuse me?" I pause at the voice, turning to look at the speaker. "Do you know where this class is?"

It's a little girl asking — probably one of the first year students. She has brown hair, tied up into twin buns on the top of her head, and is dressed in a red and yellow qipao-style dress. She's vaguely familiar, but despite the nagging feeling that I should recognize her nothing comes to mind.

"Oh — um, what room is it?" She shows the paper to me, and I scan the number written down. "It's on the second floor … here, I'll show you."

She beams. "Thanks! Are you goin' there too?"

"Nope, I'm in a different class. You're a first year, right?" the girl follows me as I go, trailing just a step behind. "I'm Nagisa."

"Yeah! I started just in April — I'm Tenten!"

The missing piece snaps into place and I nearly stumble.

 _Tenten._ How didn't I recognize her?

"Nice to meet you, Tenten-chan." We climb the stairs quickly, and I'm a bit dismayed to find that she's taller than me by at least three centimeters. "Aren't you a bit late to be staring kunoichi classes, though? They started two weeks ago."

"Hm … yeah," she replies. "I guess so? I didn't wanna go to them, so I just skipped — but then Hanako-sensei yelled at me for it. Now I gotta go." She pouts, crossing her arms over her chest.

I bite back a laugh. "Aw, I know that feeling. Do you know who you have?"

"Suzume-sensei?" She guesses. "I dunno for sure. Do you have her too?"

I pause. "Oh. Um — I'm a second year," I admit. "I started last year, so I have Noriko-sensei."

"Oh — oops," she says sheepishly. "I didn't know. Sorry!"

I shake my head. "It's fine."

We stop in front of the classroom, and Tenten smiles again before bowing her head slightly. "Thank you for the help!"

"Yeah, no problem, Tenten-chan." I adjust my bag. "I gotta get going to my own class — have fun."

* * *

"Do you ever have nightmares?" I ask my brother as I lie back on his bed. He's writing something on a scroll — probably some kind of fuinjutsu, if I have to guess.

"Occasionally," he responds, not even looking up. "Why do you ask?"

I shrug. My homework is spread out across the bed, and although I finished it awhile ago I haven't bothered to put it away yet. "What are your nightmares about?"

Genma hums. "Nothing you need to know."

"Do you ever dream about the future?" I roll onto my homework, the paper crinkling beneath my body. "About what's gonna happen?"

"Not really," he replies. "Do you?"

I shrug stiffly. "Kinda. Sometimes I dream about strangers graduating the academy and becoming ninja. And saving the world."

"Saving the world?" he repeats. "From what?"

I roll over again. "A monster."

Genma is silent for a few seconds. Then, he admits, "Your sensei stopped by again."

"… Why?"

"He said you're advancing much faster than everyone else." Genma turns to look at me for the first time during the conversation. "He recommended you move into a later class."

I sit up abruptly. "No."

"Relax," he begins. "I told him you weren't going to do that."

I lean back a bit. "I don't wanna leave my friends."

If it wasn't for Takumi and Souta, I probably would've accepted the offer of moving into a higher class; hell, I probably would've begged for it. The extra time training would be invaluable; all those hours of doing missions, of training — it would up my survival rate so much.

But … I'm attached to my class. To Takumi, to Souta — the first friends I've had in a long, long time. I can't leave them behind like that.

"I understand — I don't think moving to a higher class would've been a good idea, either." The senbon flicks to the other side, jerking upwards as my brother talks. "There's no need for you to graduate that early."

I frown. "Graduate?"

"Your chakra control is incredibly high," my brother points out. "You consistently receive perfect scores on tests and quizzes. You're capable of throwing weapons properly — maybe not at the level you'd need to graduate, but good enough to put you a class or two behind. The only issue is your taijutsu skills, which are at an appropriate level for someone your age, but the fact that you're so flexible makes it difficult to get a hit on you."

"… How do you know that?"

"Your sensei told me," Genma says offhandedly. "By the way, good job with the dirt. It's always important to be able to use your surroundings to your advantage."

I grin. "Thanks. Tadashi-kun was kinda mad at me after that, but he got over it eventually."

"That's how it works with seven year olds — can't hold a grudge if it'd kill them."

I begin to gather my papers together. "Hey, big brother … since I know the basic katas and have done some spars, will you spar with me?"

Genma raises an eyebrow. "Spar with you?"

"Yeah." I tap the edges of the stack on the bed to straighten them out. "I wanna fight someone for real — I know you're super strong and stuff and a lot better than me, but — it'd be fun. To spar with you; do a real fight."

He laughs, bringing a hand to his face in amusement. "You know, schoolyard brawls are a lot different than actual combat."

I frown. "I _know that_ ," I stress. "Which is why I want to try it."

"Hm …" Genma muses over it for a few seconds before he offers, "how about this; when you win all your spars for two weeks straight, I'll do it. Got it?"

"T-Two weeks?" I squeak. "But — but there's no way I'm gonna be able to beat Kaede and Souta! And I'll _definitely_ get matched up against them if I win every match, which will be super hard because I'll just get moved to spar with the better students!"

"Fine, fine … how about, rather than two weeks straight, you just have to beat both of them once?" Genma corrects. "That shouldn't be too difficult for you."

I stick my tongue out at him. "Kaede is an Uchiha, though. She's got a ton more training than all of us."

"Well, you've got a point with that," he admits. "I guess we'll have to start adding in some taijutsu training on Sundays."

I groan softly at that. Genma is an absolute slave driver when it comes to training; I can already feel the soreness in my legs and arms multiplying. "You think that's gonna help me?"

"Kid," he starts, "it's a whole lot easier to fight someone who is your size than someone two times your size."

"I know …" I sigh. "You really think I can beat Kaede and Souta though? What if I'm not able to?"

My voice wavers a bit near the end, but I manage to keep it steady for the most part. Genma pauses for a moment.

"If by the end of the year you still can't beat them, then I'll take pity on you I suppose."

I chew on my bottom lip. "… Fine. I'll beat both of them by the end of the year, and then you'll have to spar with me. Got it?"

The senbon flicks upward. "Got it. Just make sure you remember the deadline," he taunts, before returning to work on the seal he's writing.

I stick my tongue out at his back.

* * *

 **A/N: Ehhh. I don't know how great this chapter is, honestly. As much as I want to have Nagisa's academy years documented, there's only so much I can write about it without this becoming a fanfiction about her academy years, so there was a lot of skipping around in this chapter. I hope it wasn't confusing. I definitely won't be covering every single year, though; only the important ones. Sorry for any typos in this chapter, I'm exhausted and finally getting through a horrible writer's block. I don't really have the patience to read through this again.**

 **Question: If I started a side series composed of short interludes in the POV of side characters (Souta, Takumi, Genma, etc.), would you guys be interested in reading it? It'd be in 3rd person of course, and would be about situations that Nagisa is not able to narrate on. Let me know in the reviews, please!**

 **Some notes about the academy: According to the show, there are multiple graduation exams per year; I'm guessing in spring and fall. Therefor, I'm going to assume that there are also two first-year classes that come in per year, a week after those graduations. Students who fail the spring exam practice during the spring and summer, and then retest in fall, and your graduation date is (generally) dependent on when you enroll. So Nagisa's class, which enrolled in the spring, will take their future graduation exam in the spring as well. A student who enrolls during the fall would, by default, take their graduation exam in the fall, but if they're prepared enough they can take it during the spring. If they fail, they'd just return to their class and take it again in the fall.**

 **Sorry for the bit of word vomit there, but I wanted to explain it since I couldn't find a place to put it into the chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading! Please review!**


	7. Academy: Chapter 6

**Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto**

* * *

Sunday trainings with Genma after starting taijutsu are completely brutal. Although he keeps firm to his promise of not sparring with me, he does decide that it's time to start using the training dummies and logs set up on the training ground. He's a lot stricter on how I hold myself during each kick or punch compared to Takeo-sensei, and it goes for quite a bit longer than I'm used to.

Takumi, Souta, and I all gather at that same training field after those lessons, having our own practice matches that Genma supervises if I ask; he even throws out tips and suggestions during the matches.

It takes a bit more than a month before I'm finally matched up against Souta — Takeo-sensei has been been alternating between sparring and weapon training every other week, so technically only about a two weeks worth of matches and four sessions with my brother — , and I'm practically vibrating with nerves. After making the seal of confrontation we both fall into our stances, and Takeo-sensei gives the signal.

Souta doesn't immediately rush at me; rather, he stays where he is, his eyes watching me carefully. In fact — I've realized, from watching his previous matches and the play matches we've had on Sundays, that he rarely ever moves first. It's always his partner who does.

… I guess that leaves it up to me, then.

I aim a punch at him that he blocks, and his foot shoots out in an attempt to trip me. I quickly avoid it, barely managing to bring my own arms up to block a punch that follows it up. I bend back to avoid the punch that follows, kicking my legs up and nearly nailing him in the chin — and then I retreat back a bit.

Souta follows without missing a beat and I drop into a roll, barely avoiding another punch, and scramble behind him; then I jerk to my feet and shove my hands forward into his back.

He stumbles — Takeo-sensei won't count that as a hit, unfortunately — and whirls around at the same moment I drive my fist forward.

He can't block it in time and I know almost immediately it's going to bruise. Souta stumbles back, his hands flying up to the spot, and I bend over, hands resting on my knees and keeping me upright. My chest is heaving as Takeo-sensei announces me as the winner, and I manage to compose myself enough to make the seal of reconciliation with Souta before smiling sheepishly. Sensei orders me to accompany Souta to get ice from the infirmary.

"Is your eye OK?" I ask, as we enter the academy. "It looks like it's swelling already."

Souta winces, but thankfully doesn't seem to be angry about the fact that I gave him a black eye. "It's fine," he reassures. "You did a good job winning, Nagisa-chan! Congratulations."

"Yeah, but I had to beat you to win," I mumble. "Hey … speaking of that, how did you get so good at taijutsu? I've wanted to ask for a while."

Souta blinks, and I elaborate with, "You're an orphan, but you have one of the highest taijutsu grades in our class. How?"

"Oh. Um, well — you remember how Minami-chan ditched me during New Year's?" I nod. "She said she would do a favour for me as an apology; so I asked her to help me learn taijutsu so I wouldn't be behind."

I furrow my brow. "Minami-chan … what year is she?"

"She's ten," he supplies, "but she started helping me around your birthday." He hesitates, before asking, "Are you mad?"

"Huh?" I blink. "Why would I be mad?"

Souta shrugs. "Because I didn't tell you."

We reach the nurse's office a few seconds later, and after she gives Souta an ice bag we make our way back outside. Takumi's match is going on; he's finally sparring against Tadashi, though what they're currently doing is a lot closer to flat out brawling than actually using taijutsu; the only reason a winner hasn't been called yet is because they keep managing to block each other. I wouldn't be surprised if they start throwing out insults soon.

"Takumi-kun doesn't know either," Souta admits.

"I don't think he'll care," I reply, cracking my neck. "He isn't like that."

Souta pauses. Then, "Yeah — I guess you're right, Nagisa-chan."

Takeo-sensei assigns Souta as my usual sparring partner after that. He still has the edge on me, thanks to his training with Minami — which has apparently ended, I learn two days later —, but eventually I finally manage to win enough matches to be moved up to Kaede. The boy she'd been sparing with is moved down to be Souta's partner.

It takes half a week of fights before I somehow manage to beat Kaede in a spar. Of course, it's only once, and I'm almost positive that I got lucky; she'd been sniffling and coughing all day and obviously not in top shape, but it still counts.

I lose the rest of my matches against her after that and get moved back to being Souta's partner.

* * *

"So, how's this gonna work?" I ask, two Sundays after the match. "You're a lot taller than me."

Genma shrugs, his senbon flicking. "We'll just have to make it work — you're the one who wanted to spar, after all."

I frown, but don't argue against that. "What are the rules?"

"Well, there's two ways we can do this." He holds up a finger. "You hit me and you win — meaning you either hit me and win, I get you in a position you can't escape from and you lose, or you give up and lose. The second way is we go until you can't anymore; meaning you could hit me as many times as you could and the match wouldn't be over until someone is unable to continue."

I hum. "Let's do the first one," I decide. The likelihood of being able to hit him more than once is pretty low; after all, my brother has ... what, eleven years of experience on me? Not counting his academy days, of course. "Is that OK?"

"It's up to you; whatever you chose is fine," Genma replies, dropping his hands to his side. "As for rules; I won't use any weapons, and I won't hit you too hard. Fair?"

I shrug. "Sure. Can _I_ use weapons?"

"Do you have any?"

I pause. "Well … no, but maybe I could use yours?"

He shakes his head. "Sorry kid; if you don't have any, you can't use them."

From the sidelines, Takumi shouts, "Beat him up, Nagicchi!" followed by a similar call from Souta, albeit with a bit more restraint. I turn to look at them for a moment, offering a single smile — that's probably closer to a grimace at this point — before returning my attention to Genma.

I don't bother making the seal and neither does he — "Ready?" he prompts, and I nod.

My brother _disappears._

I look around wildly, struggling to figure out where he could've gone, only for a foot to impact with my back with just enough force to send me tumbling, but not nearly hard enough to actually hurt. I fall into a roll like we've been taught, immediately clambering back to my feet — and I barely manage to duck in time to avoid a kick. Considering I'm able to dodge in the first place shows just how much Genma is holding back.

Genma dodges around my punches, jumping when necessary and even doing back flips when it's completely unnecessary.

Show off.

I launch myself beneath his legs, scrambling out behind him and grabbing a fistful of his shirt; I prepare to kick the back of his knees only for a log to appear in the space he was before.

"Hey—!" I cry out, "You said just taijutsu! That's not fair, Genma!"

He appears right beside the fallen log, holding his hands up in protest. "Hm — did I, though?" He easily dodges my kick, maneuvering his way until he's right behind me, and suddenly I'm trapped in an arm lock and dangling off the ground. "Looks like I win, either way."

I huff, wiggling and kicking my feet in an attempt to hit him. My heel impacts with his stomach and he huffs, dropping me from the hold. I right myself quickly, glaring at him with as much annoyance as I can muster. "Cheater."

"Cheater?" he repeats, eyebrows raising. "It wasn't really _cheating,_ though…"

"Were too." I cross my arms over my chest. "You said 'taijutsu' and then went and used kawarimi! _That's_ not taijutsu, big brother."

The senbon flicks as he argues, "All I said was no weapons; nothing about jutsu. Besides, the kawarimi isn't what made you lose; it didn't harm you in any way."

"I had a hold on your shirt," I point out. "I was gonna hit you and you—" I form the last hand sign for kawarimi, "—you used it! I would've won otherwise …"

Genma raises an eyebrow, his senbon flicking in the same direction. "Even if I hadn't used it, I could've easily gotten out; it was just the least likely to harm you."

I sigh, crossing my arms over my chest. "Still not fair … can we try again? _Without_ jutsu," I specify.

My brother shrugs. "Sure —" when I squint my eyes at him he quickly reassures, "no jutsu; I promise. It really will be just taijutsu."

"You'll swallow a thousand senbon?"

Genma pauses. Then, "Eh … sure."

"Alright," I finally answer, falling into the academy stance as my brother takes his own. "Can all three of us fight you afterwards?"

He pauses, glancing over at Takumi and Souta who are still seated on the sidelines. "Well," he starts, "I guess if you really want to. Still won't help you win, though." He cracks a confident grin, before we begin again.

* * *

" _Can you say 'mama?'" she asks. "Come on, Nagisa-chan — say mama!"_

 _My mouth won't move and the words don't come out. Instead I simply blink tiredly up at the woman who is undoubtedly my mother in this world. Another face appears, younger and male, and he offers a small wave, his lips curved into a smile._

" _This is Genma," my mother stresses, "he's your big brother; mama and big brother. We're your family, Nagisa-chan."_

 _Family; this is my new family. The old one is gone, just like my old life — and my skin is buzzing uncomfortably with an itch I can't seem to scratch. It's been months now and although the feeling is fairly subdued by now, it's still different. Wrong; this wasn't here in my last life._

" _You're a smart girl, Nagisa-chan," mom coo's. "You're so smart — remember, I'm mama and Genma is big brother."_

 _The forms blur and mom's face seems to cut away, replaced by someone I can't put a name to. There's a faint sense of recognition but the face isn't there and the name won't come to mind._

 _The person moves; I'm sitting, rather than laying on my back, and the desk is scattered with papers; math apparently. Except I'm not really there — I'm watching from somewhere. "You didn't get a perfect score on the calculus test you took last week."_

 _They — no, me? — shudder and I see the hands go to my— no, their arm … they dig into the skin and leave half moons indented in the pale skin. "I'm sorry."_

" _You're never going to get into the right college without perfect scores!" the woman snaps and their shoulder's slump. "A 96 is one problem — one problem that you didn't bother to study hard enough to get."_

" _I'm — I'm sorry," they repeat, and despite their posture their voice is carefully stoic, with an air of detachment buried into a corner. "I'll do better next time."_

 _My stomach churns as the woman scoffs. "You better, [ ]," the name is gone and despite how much I attempt to remember it, I can't. "Your father is so disappointed in you."_

" _Sorry," they mumble again. "I'll do better. I won't forget next time. The extra credit will make up for it. I promise."_

I wake up with a start, my heart hammering in my chest and breath coming out in pants that I can barely control. Another memory — the one I've seen at least two different times since January.

My eyes burn and I press my palms into them, shoulders shaking as I swallow back sobs. Vaguely I realize that I shouldn't be so affected by this anymore; that person is gone and so is their life — memories are harmless.

But I can't. Although I've forgotten her face and voice, the words sting. Disappointment — I hated disappointing people and still do. Genma doesn't seem disappointed by the fact that my taijutsu scores aren't the best, but _I am._

I should be the best, but I'm not. No matter how hard I train or how much I work, it always feel like someone is one step _ahead._ Souta and I are pretty much equally matched at this point and one of us is going to get moved up to Kaede today and I can't _beat her._ The only reason I beat her the first time was because she was sick.

The sun is up by the time I've stopped shaking and I slip into the bathroom, splashing my face with water. Genma is already up, in the kitchen making food, and I stare at myself in the mirror for a bit longer than necessary, taking in the slight red rings beneath my eyes from crying before heading into the living room.

"Morning," Genma calls to me, and if he notices anything is off he doesn't mention it. "Do you mind getting the chopsticks for me?"

I grab two pairs from the drawer, setting them down on the table before getting some water. "I might have to spar with Kaede today."

"Oh?" he doesn't look up from the stove, and I fill up a second mug with water, placing it down at his usual spot before climbing onto my seat. "You won the last match against Souta then."

I swing my feet, sniffling softly. "No. It — it was a tie," I mumble, and my voice shakes slightly despite myself. "I'm sorry I didn't win …"

"It's not a big deal," Genma reassures. "You've only been doing matches for … what, two months now? You're ranked third already; that's really good."

I bite back the automatic _you're wrong_ that comes to mind, instead choking out a muffled, "I guess," in response.

We eat ten minutes later, making small talk about classes and missions until it's time for me to get ready.

"I don't think I'll be able to beat Kaede," I admit when Genma hands me my bento. "I'm — I'm sorry."

His hand comes down to ruffle my hair. "You did it once," he reminds me.

"That was a fluke," I immediately shoot back. "I can't do it again —"

"Nagisa," he interrupts sternly, and I clamp my mouth shut, "listen to me. It's alright if you can't beat Kaede. It's alright if you're not the best at everything; I won't be mad at you."

I blink rapidly to deter my tears — but despite my efforts a few escape, and I swallow back a cry that rises in my throat, instead nodding. "I-I'm sorry," I choke out.

Genma hugs me against his side and I wrap my arms around his waist. "You don't have to apologize, alright? Even if you were the worst in your class; I wouldn't want you to apologize over it, as long as you're putting your best effort into it."

I swallow hard, a shudder wracking my body — and my tears clog my throat, making it almost impossible to speak. "I—" I hiccup, hiding my face in his side. "A-Alright."

By the time I reach the academy my eyes are dry, though I barely make it to class before Takeo-sensei takes attendance. I have to all but crawl over Takumi and Souta to reach my usual wall seat, and Souta winces when my knee digs into his thigh.

"Ow … you're lucky you're so small, Nagisa-chan," he mumbles. "If you were bigger that'd have hurt a lot more."

I shift slightly, frowning. "I'm heavy?"

"No —" Souta shakes his head, rubbing the spot tenderly, "but you're really … boney?" He nods to himself. "It was sharp."

Takumi fiddles with his hair; he hasn't trimmed it in a while and it's starting to show. "It's cuz' she never finishes all her food," he states, swinging his feet. "Say, Nagicchi, why don't you?"

"Who's Nagicchi?" I ask, faking confusion. "I've _neever_ heard of that person."

He rolls his eyes. "Fine, _Nagisa-chan._ Why don'tcha ever finish your food?"

"I do."

Souta shakes his head. "I've never seen you finish anything … you always stop eating when me and Takumi do," he points out. "Don't you get hungry when you don't finish?"

I hesitate, unsure how to respond to that. "I …" I shrug, folding my hands together and drawing my legs up under me. "It's because — I take so long to finish," I manage, "if I ate everything you guys would never get to play, because you'd be stuck waiting."

"Even at my house?" Takumi questions. "It's not a big deal if we gotta wait a bit longer y'know. Mom says you'll never grow taller if you don't eat properly."

"I'm growing just fine," I huff, crossing my arms across my chest. "You and Souta-kun are just giants."

Souta frowns. "But … you know, Nagisa-chan, the growth checks are coming up. This will be the first time we have to do them."

"Growth checks?" Takumi repeats. "What's that?"

Souta hums, propping his chin up on his palm. "Minami-chan said that every two years the heights and weights of academy students are taken. Then the village tracks it until they graduate."

"Oh … dad talked about that," Takumi replies. "So then … if we have one this year, we'll be nine next time." He pauses. "And then eleven?"

Souta nods. "The final one is when the academy graduates get their ID photos taken."

"What does this have to do with anything?" I ask. "Who cares if a growth check is coming up?"

Takumi rolls his eyes. " _Duh,_ it's because you'll be known as the smallest one in our year, that's why. Aren't you embarrassed?"

I don't reply immediately, instead leaning back and drumming my fingers on the wood. "Not really," I finally reply, "I don't care … it's because I'm small that I can bend so much," I point out. "I'm small, so I'm flexible. And harder to hit; you know?"

"But if you're big you can hit harder!" Takumi points out. "You can knock the person down and—" he mimics punching something, "—pow! You win!"

Souta giggles softly. "Takumi-kun, if that was true you'd have a higher taijutsu score," he teases. "Didn't Takeo-sensei scold you for that earlier? That you need to not rush into it?"

Takumi frowns. "Well … yeah," he admits, "but that doesn't matter."

"It _does_ matter," I shoot back. "If you rush into it you'll get hurt."

"It's taijutsu; everyone gets hurt eventually," he mumbles in response. "I don't get what's the big deal."

I shake my head, sighing dramatically and leaning against his shoulder. "Oh, Takumi-kun — poor, poor Takumi-kun … so innocent."

"Huh? What are you talking about—?"

"Shh," I hush, "Takeo-sensei is taking attendance."

And with that our conversation dies away, thankfully never coming back up as the day progresses. When PE rolls around I'm both relieved and dismayed to find that Souta has been moved up to Kaede's sparring partner. It's more humiliating for me to lose repeatedly than to be held back and forced to spar with someone other than Souta, honestly, and while a small part of my brain screams about how I'm a _failure for not being the one facing Kaede,_ I force myself to ignore it.

* * *

We have our first trip outside the village right before summer break; it's when we learn to make fires from flint and steel, learn ways to hide in the foliage and trees, to set traps for our enemies — it's also when we learn the proper way to cremate a body without the aid of ninjutsu; a way to allow fallen comrades to keep their dignity after death, rather than running the risk of being used against the village in the future.

October comes around; it's a Sunday, and I'm on my way to Takumi's house when I'm almost flattened by a small body crashing into me.

I nearly manage to catch myself, but at the last moment I lose my balance. The impact sends jolts of pain through my limbs and I groan, my elbows smacking against the dusty ground.

"Ah … ow," the voice whines, "ow … ow, ow."

I grimace, opening my mouth to apologize only for the words to freeze in my throat. The kid in front of me is holding his elbow in one hand, his expression twisted into one of pain — but that's not what startles me.

No, it's the bright blond hair and _whisker marks_ on his cheeks that do that.

"Ah—" somehow, I manage to find my voice again, "—s-sorry. Are you OK?"

Naruto looks up, large blue eyes staring at me in shock. He makes no move to get up, and I offer him a hand when I get to my own feet. "Uh … hello?"

Naruto stares at my hand warily, as if he's expecting me to retract it or something, but after a few seconds of nothing he reluctantly reaches up to grasp it. His hold is light, barely there — and I heft him to his feet with a huff.

And — well.

He's not as little as I thought he was.

There's only about half a head's difference between the two of us, and I swallow back my embarrassment. "Are you OK?" I ask, when I see him clutch his elbow again. "Did you, um … scrape it?"

"No," Naruto mumbles, looking down at his feet. "It just hurt when I fell down."

"Oh." I sniffle, rocking back on my heels uncomfortably. "OK."

Naruto glances over his shoulder nervously, before reluctantly meeting my eyes. "Sorry, I knocked you down …" he says sullenly, and I'm stunned.

 _This_ little boy grows up to be the hot headed ninja in the anime? Their personalities are complete opposites in every way — it's incredibly jarring.

"It's fine," I manage to reply, my voice strained. "Where were you going, anyways?"

Naruto shrugs. "Nowhere."

I frown. "Are you playing tag or something?"

"No." He stubs his heel into the ground. "Just tryna' visit jii-chan."

"Oh." I pause. "Uh, where does he live?"

Naruto points behind me, and I turn to look at the spot. "The … Hokage Tower?" I ask, and he nods. "Uh … who's your grandpa again?"

"Sarutobi-jii-chan," he informs me.

 _Ah. The Hokage; he's talking about the Hokage._ I shift uncomfortably, and am thankfully saved from having to respond when a group of children about Naruto's age appears.

"Ah — there he is!" one of them calls out, and Naruto immediately jolts in surprise. "Stop running away you coward!"

Naruto takes off without another word, nearly barreling into me again as he goes, and I immediately step back when a boy stomps forward, a scowl etched on his face. "Hey, you! Where was he going?"

I squint at him. "I don't know," I lie. "He just bumped into me."

"Ugh … fine, whatever. We'll just get him when he comes back. Stupid Naruto …"

When I finally reach Takumi's house Souta is already there, the fan running in the corner of the room. "Souta-kun," I start, not even bothering to say hello first, "do you know Naruto?"

"Naruto?" he frowns. "No. Why?"

I shrug. "He bumped into me. Some kids were looking for him — I thought I saw them before at the orphanage," I lie.

Souta shakes his head. "I've never met a Naruto before."

"Isn't that a kind of food?" Takumi blurts out, from his sprawled out position on the floor. "Y'know, that spirally thing in ramen?"

"That's narutomaki," I point out. "The kamaboko. But his _name_ is Naruto."

"Hmm … I dunno then." Takumi rolls onto his stomach, stretching his back with a groan. "Since you were the last one here, you gotta go get us more water."

I huff, but reluctantly take their cups and make my way to the kitchen. I have to make two trips to get all of our cups back, but once they're put down I drag my homework out of my bag and lay it out across the table. Takumi and Souta have theirs out as well, though it's obvious that they'd barely been working on it before I arrived.

"So," I start, after taking a long drink from my cup, "where do you guys wanna start?"

"Kanji," Takumi immediately answers. "Did'ya finish the worksheet?"

I nod, already moving to retrieve it. "In class. Wanna check answers?"

He shakes his head, chewing on the end of his pencil. "We're stuck," he admits. "It's so hard to remember the right way to write the kanji … and the readings, and just _everything._ "

"You just have to write it a lot," I reply, scooting over so I'm between the two of them. "Slowly. Like this." I write out the kanji for mirror four times, making sure to write each one in the proper stroke order. Both of them squint down at the paper.

"What is it?" Souta asks, after I've put the pencil down. "I don't recognize that kanji … can I try?"

I hand him the pencil as I reply, " _Kagami._ It's—" I shake my head at Souta, "—you draw the two middle lines first before going down. Anyways, it's a kanji we'll learn in our fourth year or something."

"Then why do _you_ know it?" Takumi asks, as he tries to copy the kanji down as well. "Do you know all the kanji for this year?"

"Of course," I reply, before admitting, "I learned them before we started the first year."

Takumi blows out a breath. "Wow … Nagisa-chan, you really need a life."

I frown. "Rude — we'll have to learn it sooner or later," I remind him. "By doing it early, it means I'll have less to worry about; and I'll be able to learn more kanji."

"Why would you _wanna_ learn more kanji, though?" Takumi questions. "They're hard and the strokes are difficult." He trails off into a sigh, flopping back against me. I huff, planting my hands firmly to keep from toppling forward. "I wish everything could be in kana."

Souta pushes the paper over to me. "Did I do it right?" He asks, eyes wide, and I nod. "How long did it take you to memorize all the kanji you know, Nagisa-chan?"

"I … don't know," I admit. "I started actually learning kanji when I was three and a half, and by the start of this year I'd finished the sixth year." I sigh, leaning my cheek into my hand. "It was kinda slow … I probably could've learned them faster if I'd tried harder."

I don't mention the fact that, for a lot of the kanji, I vaguely understand already thanks to my previous life.

"Huh?" Takumi huffs. "Nagicchi, don't be stupid; you know as much kanji as the graduating class — that's not slow at all!"

Souta nods in agreement, copying down _kagami_ again. "Yeah, Nagisa-chan … I wish I could study like you," he says softly. "Don't you get bored?"

"No …?" I say hesitantly. "I get more bored in class than when I study kanji."

Takumi whistles in surprise. "So how many do you know then? All the academy ones?"

I shrug. "Probably. Either way, it's not enough. Now — let's do the kanji work so we can play, yeah?" I offer. "I'll help you guys out."

We work for awhile longer, until both of them finish their kanji sheets — and I'm preparing to pull out the next worksheet when Takumi begins, "Hey … Nagisa-chan and Souta-kun. I gotta question."

I glance at him, tilting my head in interest, and he rubs at the back of his neck nervously. "Why do we still use honorifics for each other?"

"Huh?" Souta echoes my response, and we glance at each other for a moment before Souta asks, "What do you mean?"

Takumi huffs to himself, looking up from the ground. "It's just — it's been a whole _year._ Do we gotta keep using -chan and -kun for each other? It's stupid. Tadashi and Hideki don't use them."

"Tadashi-kun is a brute," I point out. "And Hideki is an ass."

Takumi's eyes widen at my language, only for frustration to cross his face that easily drains into his voice. "Why don't you use a suffix for Hideki — but you use them for us? Do you like him better?"

I blanch. "Wh— _what?_ Why would you think that?"

Takumi crosses his arms stubbornly. "You just call him _Hideki._ But with me and Souta it's always _Souta-kun_ or _Takumi-kun._ Why?"

Souta fidgets uncomfortably, but doesn't argue. I chew on my bottom lip, struggling for a response. It's almost a constant reminder to even _use_ honorifics; thanks to my past life, where everyone used their first name (or rarely last name) only, I have to actively remind myself to be polite — it just … tends to slip away when I don't _care_ or need to seem respectful.

"Because … I don't like Hideki," I finally mumble. "And since we're not friends, he thinks I'm being rude — which I _am_ ," I reassure.

Souta finally takes the chance to say, "Takumi-kun; do you want Nagisa-chan and me to just call you Takumi?"

"Would you?" Takumi blurts out. "I mean — we're best friends. So we don't need to call each other with suffixes anymore, right?"

I breathe out softly, shoulders relaxing. "I don't mind," I finally say. "What about you, Souta-kun?"

Souta pauses, thinking for a moment. His face scrunches up in concentration — and I'm about to reassure him he doesn't have to when he agrees, "I'm fine with it, too."

A grin splits across Takumi's face, and he throws his arms over our shoulders, dragging us into a strange version of a hug that I instinctively want to pull away from. I force myself not to, though, and instead pat Takumi's shoulder.

"Great!" he exclaims. "I knew you guys would say yes." He laughs as he releases us, wiggling a bit in an attempt to get comfortable again, and Souta grins back.

I lean back onto my hands, nudging Takumi with my foot before motioning at our homework. "So now that we've got that figured out … wanna finish the rest of our work?"

"Huh? Why?" Takumi whines. "We've been working on it for like — like an _hour_ already. Can't we take a break?"

I nudge him again. "We just _did_ take a break, Takumi." I nearly stumble over his name; it feels weird to not be attaching anything to the end of it. I have to take a moment before I can finish, "Besides, we're almost done."

Souta removes his copy of the last piece of homework, holding it up for us to see. "Nagisa-ch— _Nagisa,"_ he catches himself, "can I compare my answers with yours?"

I hand off my own copy to him wordlessly before moving to help Takumi with his own, folding my legs beneath me and leaning my weight onto the sitting table.

* * *

Our third year at the academy is marked by one, and only one anomaly — a small, blonde haired, blue eyed child with whisker marks on his cheeks; Uzumaki Naruto.

He's not even visible in the crowd, of course, but I can see several of the rookie nine scattered across the courtyard which is as good of an indicator as any that he's here. Takumi is completely speechless as we hover near the door.

"And I thought we were special, with an Uchiha and Hyuuga in our year …" he leans back, his hands supporting the back of his head. "I can see — um … an Inuzuka, an Akimichi … another Uchiha, a Hyuuga —"

"Don't forget the Yamanaka," I add on, pointing right at Ino, and then at Shikamaru, "plus the Nara."

Souta's eyes are wide. "Wow … that's amazing — Nagisa; if we were just a year younger, that would've been our graduating class!"

"Not if we'd still entered a year earlier," I reply, before admitting, "still … I'm glad that isn't our class."

"Huh? Why?" Takumi asks. "That's the graduating class of _legends."_

" _Exactly."_ I get two looks of confusion so I clarify, "If taijutsu and bukijutsu is competitive in our class … imagine that one. With —" I do a quick headcount, "—seven clan kids … it'd be almost impossible for us to be at the top of the class."

Takumi hisses out a breath. "Crap, you're right." He laughs to himself, but there's a hint of nervousness. "Man, I feel bad for all the non-clan kids; they're gonna be left behind for sure," he says. "Hey — you guys remember our bet, right? About how many people would drop out?"

"Oh — I guess we'll find out who was right today, right?" Souta replies, and Takumi nods. "You still have the paper, right?"

I nod. "Of course. Wanna head to our class?"

Both of them nod, and we turn to go only to pause when a hand grasps the back of my shirt and tugs me back. My arms pinwheel as I struggle not to fall, instinctively jerking around to rip out of the hold, only to pause.

"Oh — …" Naruto stares back at me, his eyes wide, and I catch a hint of fear behind blue. "You're … Naruto?"

He nods. "I — I don't know anyone here," he says softly, and I'm nearly floored by the differences in his personality. "Will you … do you wanna wait with me? Maybe we'll be in the same class!"

Takumi bursts into wild laughter barely seconds after Naruto finishes speaking, and I hear Souta bite back giggles of his own. I whirl on them, my face burning in embarrassment, and Takumi leans against my shoulder, struggling to catch his breath.

"Hah — N-Nagicchi you're — you've been mistaken for a first year _again."_ He huffs, a smug grin stretched across his lips. "I _called it!_ "

Naruto's expression has gone from crushed to surprised. "Huh?" he echoes. "Nii-san, what are you talkin' about?"

Takumi leans even more of his weight onto my shoulder and I nearly buckle under him, barely managing to shove him off before I fall. "Heh — Nagisa here isn't a first year," he tells Naruto, "she's a _third_ year!"

The blond's eyes widen, and his head whips to me. "E-Eh!? You're — nee-san, I thought you were my age!"

I bury my face in my hands, my voice muffled as I say, "I'm _older_ than you," I whine, "why does this keep happening?"

"It's because you never finish your fooood," Takumi states loudly, poking my shoulder, "sorry — uh … Naruto?" he guesses. "Nagisa can't sit with you, or she'll be late. You'll have'ta find someone else to play with."

Naruto's face falls, but before I can say anything to him Takumi and Souta are dragging me off into the academy. "I can't believe this," I finally mumble, after we've found our classroom, "I'm not _that_ short — he was smaller than me! By like — like — at least a couple centimeters!"

"Hm … what was your measurement last year?" Takumi wonders. "107 centimeters? You were the smallest one in our year."

I huff. "111 centimeters, actually," I correct. "I've grown, though — Genma said so! I'm—"

Takumi lifts his hand so that it's level with his chin. "This was your height last year — and now you're here." He uses his other hand and brings it up to his bottom lip. "So … how much different is this?"

Souta squints. "Um … maybe five centimeters?" He guesses. "But Takumi — that's not really a fair comparison … you're a year older than us," he states. "And you've grown a lot! Nagisa used to reach up to your ears."

"Yeah, so don't be rubbing it in," I mumble. "You're still way shorter than my brother. You're not allowed to call yourself tall until you're as tall as him."

"Huh?! Why not?" Takumi whines. "He's like — like twenty! He's _old;_ of course he'd be super tall."

"Twenty three, actually," I point out. "But he showed me his old genin ID card yesterday — so until you reach that height, I'm gonna call you short."

Takumi crosses his arms over his chest, glaring at me. "Rude," he finally snaps, after a long silence. "I bet I'll be taller than he was as a genin."

"He was only ten when he graduated," I say smugly, choosing to leave out the fact that Genma turned eleven only four months after his graduation. "If you're not that height at then then you're gonna be a shorty _forever."_

Souta asks, "What was his height?"

"146 centimeters," I tell him. "Super tall, right? That's like —" I stretch my hand above my head, "—like up to here!"

"Wow," Souta murmurs. "He really was tall … I hope I can be tall like that, too."

Takumi sighs heavily, slouching back and sliding down the bench until his feet are flat on the floor. "You guys are so mean. If anything, Nagisa, you should be the one worried; what if you never get taller than your brother?"

"What?" I blink. "What do you mean?"

"That Naruto kid was almost the same height as you last year even though he's a year younger. Doesn't that worry you?" I don't respond, and Takumi pokes my shoulder again. "Maybe y'should see a medic ninja."

I roll my eyes. "And say what? _'I'm short, can you make me taller with a jutsu?'_ " I say, only half-jokingly. "They'll just say to eat more or something."

" _Exactly."_ Takumi stresses the word, and he digs through his bag for something as he says, "So that means you gotta eat more!" He removes three wrapped nikuman from his bag, passing one to me and another to Souta, "Mom said that eating lots of nikuman will make her gain weight — so if you eat a lot of them too then you'll gain weight and grow! Everything will be all fixed that way!"

I stare at it warily, turning it over in my hands. "Why is your mom worried about gaining weight?" I ask. "Is she dieting?"

"Dieting?" Souta repeats, as he takes a bite from the nikuman Takumi gave him. "What's that?"

I frown. "It's … when people eat less to lose weight," I mumble. "Takumi's mom doesn't need to diet, though — it's not like she's fat."

"That's what dad says, too," Takumi tells me, through his own mouthful of bun. "Anyways — eat some nikuman. It'll help you grow."

I hesitate. A long moment passes, in which I turn the bun over a few more times, before I reluctantly tear off a piece and shove it into my mouth.

That morning, we find out that eight people have dropped out, bringing our class number down to twenty six. None of us got the number exactly, but since Takumi was the closest Souta and I reluctantly pay him the ryo we'd bet.

Our third year inevitably ends up similar to our second one, marked by occasional disruptions from one of the first year classes that become more frequent as the year passes — and Naruto quickly becomes the bane of every single year's existence. Although Iruka hasn't began teaching yet, it's not uncommon to hear some chunin yelling at Naruto during the day.

I'd feel bad for him, but his pranks and outbursts are loud enough that even our class is disturbed by them.

Kunoichi classes become less innocent as the year goes on; the days of sewing and flower messages are over, replaced by tips on how to use our bodies in our favor — classes full of dress up and make-up sessions become the norm as Noriko-sensei teaches us the right ways to seduce a man for the good of the village; subtle enough that none of my classmates realize what they're being taught.

They won't realize it until puberty hits — years off from now, after they've either dropped out or became genin.

It sets me on edge, frying my nerves and making me feel anxious enough that I could throw up, and it's only my pride — and the power this class has over my ranking — that stops me from completely ditching the class entirely. My sleep schedule worsens as the nightmares grow in intensity, and before winter sets in I've resigned myself to a mere five hours per night — nearly half of what I'd been getting before.

It's hard to adjust to at first but soon enough it becomes normal; and if my brother or friends notice any difference they don't mention it. I don't know if I'd be able to handle if they did, honestly. There's no way to explain it without coming across as childish or immature, after all.

My training sessions with Genma get longer during my fourth year; he still holds back considerably, but we've reached a point where weapons have (tentatively) joined the matches, and no longer do I win simply by landing a hit on him.

The amount of times I've been kicked into a tree or flipped over his shoulder is ridiculous, honestly.

The remaining classes in our year are combined into one that same year, and the matches in the academy also become less playful; it's not uncommon for everyone (except Kaede and the Hyuuga) to walk away with at least a bruise or two each day. Souta and I are still evenly matched for the most point, but for different reasons; he has strength and steadiness in his hits while I'm flexible and agile — he's easier to hit, but harder to take down; I'm harder to hit, but easier to take down.

It makes for fun sparring matches though, I'll admit. We hover between rank three and four, while Kaede, Hideki, and the Hyuuga make up the top three taijutsu ranks in the class.

Overall, though, I keep the actual top rank in our class; despite my lower taijutsu rank, the fact that I pull constant perfect scores on written tests and chakra control exercises keeps me ahead by just enough.

Takumi's taijutsu score remains abysmal but, surprisingly, he's got one of the best ranks in chakra control in our entire year; same with his bukijutsu scores. Although the academy barely touches upon genjutsu, it's already quite obvious — through the few sessions we've had — that it's going to be one of his strengths.

A week before our summer break, the two of us — Souta got roped into helping with chores at the orphanage, unfortunately — end up in the Academy training ground after class one day with borrowed weapons. Takeo-sensei is going to be giving us a test on it when we come back, and — well. Neither of us are at risk of failing, but better safe than sorry.

I pass him three of the kunai, moving to the adjacent training dummy and leaning back to watch him. "So," I start, when he just fiddles with the weapons, "are you gonna throw them?"

"I _will!"_ he snaps back, scuffing his foot into the ground. "I'm just — I'm _thinking_ is all."

I poke my finger against the edge of the kunai I'm holding, barely wincing when the tip splits my skin open. "Don't hurt yourself," I retort, and Takumi sticks his tongue out at me before sighing and taking the standard throwing position.

Two of them hit the target in a near bulls-eye, while the third one nails the edge, and I sigh as well. The thing about Takumi is that, while he's good at throwing kunai and shuriken, he's inconsistent with his results — and I guess my obsession with getting things perfect has rubbed off on him a bit, because he just can't accept not hitting a bulls-eye or close to one each time.

He yanks them out of the training log, retreating and doing it two more times — his results only get worse, though it's just marginally, and by the time his last kunai is thrown he's all but fuming.

"Why don't you try?" he offers, after going to get the kunai again. He's gripping them so tightly that his knuckles are turning white. "Since you're so great at it and all."

I frown. "You don't have to get mad at me," I mumble. "It's not my fault you didn't hit them all center."

He winces. "I — it's _hard!_ You have your brother to help you, but—"

"And you have your _dad,"_ I point out. "And it's not like you're doing a bad job. You hit the target."

Takumi doesn't reply, and I take the kunai with another sigh.. "I'm really not any better than you," I tell him, moving back a bit and adjusting my stance. "I'm just more consistent is all."

All three hit the log nearly dead center, with a resounding _thud._ I retrieve them wordlessly, offering them to Takumi again, only to nearly drop them when a familiar voice calls out, _"So cool!"_

We both turn, and I blink when I see Tenten standing just a few meters away. She hurries over to me, eyes wide. "How did you do that so cleanly, Nagisa-senpai!?"

Takumi looks at me in confusion, and I simply shrug. "Uh — Tenten-chan?" I start. "Don't the third years have kunoichi class today?"

"Ah — haha," she laughs sheepishly, "I skipped. I wanted to come and practice with weapons — can I throw them, too?" She reaches for one of the kunai and I lean back, unable to do much except hide them behind my back. She's _taller_ than me by now.

"Who's this?" Takumi asks. "D'ya know her, Nagisa?"

I nod. "This is Tenten-chan; she's a third year student. And, Tenten-chan; this is Takumi."

Tenten gives him a strange look, and Takumi returns it in full. "Nice to meet you," he finally says, begrudgingly.

"You too," Tenten returns. "So, Nagisa-senpai — will you let me throw the kunai, too? I wanna be a legendary kunoichi — like Tsunade-sama — so I need to practice a _lot_."

I hand the kunai off to Takumi, seeing how he's taller than me and more likely to be able to keep them away from Tenten, before telling the girl, "Sorry — I can't."

"Huh? Why not?"

"If you skip too many kunoichi classes, they'll refuse to let you graduate," I tell her. "You can always come back after it's over and practice; but until then, you need to just go to class and pay attention."

Tenten sighs. "It's so boring, though."

Takumi returns to throwing, easily drowning out our conversation, and I see Tenten's eyes drift towards him. "I bet Tsunade-sama would've taken her kunoichi lessons," I start, drawing her attention back to our conversation. "How can you become a legendary kunoichi if you don't even take your kunoichi classes seriously?"

Tenten hesitates, before she admits, "I guess you're right, Nagisa-senpai."

I pat her on the shoulder. "Mhm. So why don't you go back to your class and come back later? If you promise to return them when you're done, I'll leave the kunai out for you."

"Ah — really?" She beams. "Thank you! I'll be back later, then!"

Takumi turns to watch her retreat, after retrieving the kunai once again. Two of them hit the center again, while the third one was a few centimeters to the left of it. "Are you really gonna leave them out for her? Y'know, if she loses them you'll get in trouble for it."

"We're the same age," I reply. "I don't think it'll happen—"

Takumi spins the kunai carefully, and then interrupts me with, "My dad can't help me with it."

I blink at the non-sequitur. "What?"

"He can't help me." I watch him throw them again; the results are better, and he practically nails the center. "I told you and Souta — since I'm older now, he's gone back to the border."

I frown. "Oh — yeah, you did say that." I hesitate. "He showed you how to at first though, right? Can't you just use that as reference?"

"I _try,"_ he mumbles. "But when I mess up I never know what I did that was wrong, so I just keep doin' it that way and never getting it right."

"You have one of the highest scores in the class for bukijutsu, Takumi," I state dryly. "Higher than Tadashi-kun and Hideki _and_ Souta."

"But not higher than _you."_ He hands the kunai off to me after retrieving them again. "I'll be better than you at this — I _swear I will."_

I pause — then grin, reaching out to shove his shoulder lightly. "Wanna bet on it?"

He grins back.

* * *

Our summer break passes like any other, and we're only two weeks into September when the massacre happens.

One moment I'm wishing Kaede a safe walk home after class is over — wondering if she'd pulled a perfect grade on the test — and the next the village is mourning and Kaede is gone, buried with the rest of her clan.

Souta cries when he hears the news — Takumi does too. Takeo-sensei holds a moment of silence the day after at the beginning of class, and my entire body is cold. A chill settles on my chest, running down my back, and it's like my heart is in my throat.

I could've saved her; if I'd just remembered I could've _saved her._ Kept her a bit later, invited her to study — I could've saved her from being murdered.

Her spot on the class ranking is replaced by the Hyuuga in our class, and her taijutsu rank is quickly filled by Hideki, her usual sparring partner, and the Hyuuga.

Naruto's pranks become more noticeable; more _frequent_ following the incident. His casual, happy-go-lucky and bright personality becomes almost blinding to deal with — and more than ever am I grateful that my year's lunch break doesn't line up with his.

He's all but forgotten I exist; which is fine with me. The less of a connection I have, the less likely I am to die — the less likely I am to get dragged into whatever mess he makes in the future.

Tenten joins me, Souta, and Takumi every so often when we practice our throws at the academy, though she's much more skilled than all of us — I learn, fairly quickly, that her parents own a weapon shop, which explains her seemingly-natural skills with weapons.

It doesn't really matter in the end — with Kaede gone, it becomes stupidly easy to keep the top rank; although my taijutsu scores drop a bit, none of the other students in our class can compare to the rest of my scores, and while the Hideki manages to pull an occasional 100% on something, it doesn't offset his usual scores enough to make a difference.

* * *

"The graduation exam is composed of three elements," Takeo-sensei reminds us, the day before our year's graduation exam, "a written exam, followed by two practical exams — one with weapons and taijutsu, and the other with the three ninjutsu we've learned. Who can name these three jutsu?"

A few hands shoot up, including mine, though Takeo-sensei chooses to call on Hideki. " _Kawarimi no jutsu_ , _bunshin no jutsu_ , and _henge no jutsu_ ," he rattles off, and Takeo-sensei nods.

"Correct. We'll have one last practice with these three to end the day — everyone come down to the front." There's a collective groan from all of us, myself included; Takeo-sensei has been testing us on one of the three jutsu daily since we got back from the survival exercise last week. "Aizawa Hideki, you're first."

I'm the second to last person up, and I perform kawarimi first at Takeo-sensei's cue, followed by the henge and bunshin. He marks me off, moving on to Souta who performs the three with relative ease, and then finally releases the class for the day with a single, "Do not be late for the exam; no one will be let in after nine!" called out to us.

"You hear that Takumi?" I say, as we exit the classroom, "don't be late — it'd be really sad if you failed the exam because you didn't get there in time."

Takumi huffs. "Yeah, yeah, whatever," he mumbles. "I've only been late _twice_ this year; you don't gotta give me such a hard time about it."

Souta raises an eyebrow. "Twice is still a lot in three months, though."

"Yeah," I agree. "I've been late twice my entire _six years_."

"You don't count," Takumi shoots back, purposely leaning his weight onto my shoulder, "you're like — you're just a perfect student," he admits. "You gotta learn to live!"

I'm the one who huffs this time, shoving him off me with as much strength as I can muster as I say, "I don't get what being late has to do with _living."_

"Yeah, yeah." Takumi waves his hand dismissively. "Hey, Souta — are you coming over to my house tonight for dinner? Nagisa can't, but you never said if you could or not."

"Oh —" Souta blinks. "Um, yeah; if it's still alright with your parents. Should I just follow you home then?"

Takumi nods. "It's too bad you can't come," he says to me, "mom is making katsudon for good luck."

I scrunch my nose up. "I don't like katsudon, though. You know that."

"Oh yeah … you like oyakodon more, right?" Souta guesses. "Because it has more egg?"

"Mm …" I nod. "Yup. Plus, katsudon is too …" I struggle for the right word, "—big. Pork is way more filling than chicken."

"But it tastes better," Takumi argues. "The crunchiness goes better with the rice and egg — what do you think, Souta?"

Souta hums. "Um … actually, I like gyudon more," he finally admits. "That one time your brother made it — it was really good!"

"Oh — was that the only time you've had it?" I ask. "If you really liked it so much, you can come over again sometime; Genma wouldn't mind making it for you."

"Hey — yeah! Let's all go to Nagicchi's house after graduating and eat gyudon!" Takumi exclaims. "I hope we're all put on the same team; wouldn't that be awesome?"

I shrug, pretending to consider the thought. "Hm … but then I'd have to see you every _day,"_ I grumble. "Seeing you daily for six years was torture enough, Takumi _-chan_."

"Neh." He sticks his tongue out at the suffix but doesn't whine about it. "You know you'd miss me, Nagisa; don't pretend you wouldn't."

"Nah …" I wave my hand dismissively before grinning at Souta. "But I'd _definitely_ miss Souta!"

Souta giggles, and Takumi huffs before slinging an arm around both of our shoulders and dragging us into his side, and much to my disdain I'm forced to acknowledge how _tall_ he's gotten — although Hideki and Tadashi have a good two or three centimeters on Takumi, I've kept my spot as _smallest in the class_ and barely reach his nose at this point.

Souta's not nearly as tall as Takumi, either, but he reaches up to his eyebrows or so, leaving me to unfortunately accept the fact that I'm the shortest of the three of us.

And don't even get me _started_ on Genma.

"Honestly, though, I think I'll die if I have to be on a team with Tadashi," Takumi mumbles, "he's such an _ass!_ I beat him in taijutsu and have a better rank, but he just keeps saying he's better! I don't _get it!"_

I shrug out of his hold, patting him on the shoulder reassuringly. "I'm sure you'd figure something out," I sympathize. "I'm more worried about Hideki; he thinks he's cool because he has fangirls, but he's really just an idiot …"

Takumi laughs. "Did you see his bunshin earlier? It looked _awful!"_

"Takumi-kun," Souta scolds, "don't be mean! Hideki-kun has been sleeping all day during class since we got back — I heard his mom's shop is doing bad."

I hum. "Hideki's mom owns a weapon shop, right? Or was that Suzu-chan?"

"Suzu-chan," Souta confirms. "Hideki-kun's parents own a … plant shop?" He guesses. "He has a sister in the academy, too, but I don't know her name."

By the time we reach my apartments our conversation has made a full loop back to the exam, and I remind Takumi again not to be late before waving the both of them off. Genma is just putting away groceries as I come in, and I simply slide up beside him.

"That for dinner?" I ask, adjusting the collar of my shirt. "It's still oyakodon, right?"

"Unless you want something different, yes," he confirms. "You gonna help make it?"

I shrug. "Sure."

I prep the ingredients while Genma does the cooking, cleaning up what I can while while he actually cooks the dish, and only a little while later we're seated at the table with our own respective bowls of oyakodon.

"Do you remember that time Souta and Takumi came over and we had gyudon?" I ask, scooping up a bit of rice. "Souta said he really liked it. Can you make it for him again some time?"

Genma nods. "I don't see why not — it's not a difficult dish."

"Will you show him how to do it, too?" I swing my feet, leaning back and letting the spoon rest in the bowl. "Since he's an orphan, he'll get his own apartment when he graduates — he'll have to make his own food."

"You think he'll pass?"

I nod. "Souta's smart — so is Takumi. The only reason they wouldn't is if they're late," I grumble. "I warned them not to be though. I'll be pissed if they are."

Genma laughs a bit. "I'm sure they won't be; they'd have to wait until September otherwise, and Takumi at least is too impatient for that."

"… True," I agree. "Do you think I should leave early to get them just in case?"

"If you want to." He fixes me with an even look, before ordering, "Now eat your food."

I sigh, but reluctantly take a few more small bites. Genma finishes at the same time that I manage about half of my own food, and stares at me for a long moment when I get up and bring my bowl over to the kitchen.

"What?" I ask, when his eyes narrow slightly. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, his senbon flicking to the other side of his mouth. "Are you … dieting?" he says the word almost hesitantly, as if he's afraid of it.

I nearly drop my bowl in surprise as I'm emptying my leftovers into the garbage. "Wh— _what?"_ I ask. "Why would you ask me that?"

He follows me over, placing his own bowl into the sink and taking mine when I offer it. "You eat nearly the same portion sizes as you did years ago. Haven't they taught you in the academy that you need proper nutrition in order to be a successful ninja?"

"Of course they have," I shoot back. "I'm not on a diet — I just don't have a big appetite. You _know that."_

The senbon flicks again. "Do I, though? No matter what portion size I give you, you always stop halfway through."

I freeze. "What?" I croak. "How would you know?"

"When you serve yourself, it's always smaller than what I give you," he points out. "But you never eat more than half of it. Same with when I serve you — I've never actually seen you finish anything."

I back away, starting to feel slightly panicked. "I finish my bento," I argue weakly.

"Do you? Or do you give it to your friends?" Genma asks accusingly. "You're too old to be eating like that; if you become a genin, you will not be able to keep up with your teammates if you don't eat enough."

I stay silent, unable to think of a response, but that doesn't stop me from trying. "I —" I shake my head. "You're wrong."

"Why do you care all of a sudden, anyways?" I ask, before he can say anything in response to my weak protest. "You've had _years_ ; why now?"

"Because now is when it matters, Nagisa." He steps forward suddenly, laying his hands on my shoulders firmly, and I have to resist the instinctive urge to hunch under his grip. "Without proper nutrition your ability to use your chakra is going to be impacted, as will your muscle development. You can get away with it now, but once you become a genin it's only going to hurt you."

I nod, swallowing dryly. "I'll try to eat more," I say, and I'm glad my hands behind my back; it hides how they're shaking. "I'm not doing it on purpose. I promise — I just … don't think about eating that much."

Although it's not a lie, a part of me can't help but feel sick at the thought. Habits are hard to break, and this is one I've had for nearly nineteen years now — something from my past life that I'm afraid of losing. It's just … second nature.

"Maybe the increase in activity will help you," Genma muses, releasing my shoulders and ruffling my hair. "It's a big step up from the academy."

I shrug, moving to wash out our dishes and the pan that he used to cook. "It's not like I'm lazy, though."

"But you're not as active as you will be," he points out, and I shrug again. "But, uh … you're _not_ dieting, right?

I smile slightly, shaking my head. "Nah — definitely not. I don't need to lose weight, big brother."

"I'm aware," he remarks dryly. "Maybe I should send you to stay with Chouza-sensei for a while to fatten you up."

I laugh nervously, placing the dishes on the drying rack. "Big brother, I think I'd die — remember last time we visited your old sensei's house for dinner?"

Genma laughs as well. "Good point. You looked like you were ready to flee the room when they served you."

"That portion size _can't_ be healthy," I protest. "No way. It's too much!"

"For anyone who's not an Akimichi," he corrects. "Then again, that never stopped our genin team from eating it."

I shrug. "You were growing boys, anyways. It's no big deal."

"And you're a growing _girl,"_ my brother states. "It's no big deal either."

I shrug, and without anymore input the conversation drops — falling into something more normal, thankfully; and somehow, that night, I manage to fall asleep a whole hour earlier than usual.

* * *

 **A/N: Gah. Another late update. Sorry, life is … ugh. Just ugh. I'm really not doing very good right now, and I'm not too happy with this chapter either. It just feels rushed? But there's not much more to write about her academy years at this point; it would just be redundant.** **On the bright side, we've passed 40 reviews, with 14 just in the last chapter alone! Thanks so much to everyone who left a review, they really make my day to read. I know it's a long way off, but hopefully we'll soon reach 100!**

 **Since I've gotten a few reviews (and comments through PMs with readers) about this, I'll just put it here. Nagisa does act very childish at times — this is _intentional._ She was a severely sheltered (barely), eighteen year old high school graduate who killed herself due to mental illness, and as this chapter (hopefully) showed at least a little bit, her relationship with her parents wasn't very great. She doesn't really act like an adult a lot of the time and, well, mental illness doesn't just go away because you're reincarnated. Especially when the closest thing to a psychologist in your new world is someone who can literally destroy your mind if they want to.**

 **Sorry about that text wall — just wanted to put it out there since I haven't done a great job at describing it in the chapters so far.**

 **Hope you enjoyed the chapter; please leave a review, tell me what you liked, disliked, any errors, etc! Thanks for reading!**


	8. Genin: Chapter 7

**Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto**

* * *

I tap my foot as I wait, leaning back against the seat — beside me Takumi wiggles impatiently, sighing heavily as he tilts his head back and stares up at the ceiling.

The clock ticks forward indefinitely, and it feels like an eternity passes before the examination door opens and Souta steps out, his hands behind his back.

Takumi sits up straight as he approaches, and before either of us can ask Souta grins, holding up the headband in front of him — and Takumi laughs, all but launching himself over the table in his excitement.

"We did it!" He exclaims. "We all passed — we're all ninja now!"

Souta laughs, and Takeo-sensei exits the examination room a moment later, a rare smile crossing his face as he sees the three of us. Everyone else has left — with Souta and I being the last two people to do the exam, Takumi was the only one who stayed after everyone else finished.

"Congratulations, you three," Takeo-sensei offers, and my friends grin back at him. "You've all done a good job."

"Heh." Takumi nudges me as I make my way to his side. "Thanks, Takeo-sensei — hey, do you know who the teams are gonna be yet? Can you tell us?"

Takeo-sensei shakes his head. "I don't; you'll just have to wait until next week to find out, Takumi-kun." He moves to the podium to adjust the papers he's holding. "Don't forget to head to the registration offices before then to get your papers sorted," he reminds us. "Try not to leave it until too late."

"We won't," I reassure, "thank you, Takeo-sensei. I've been in your care," I offer, bowing my head a bit in respect.

We barely make it outside the academy before Takumi is laughing again. His headband is already tied to his forehead, and he adjusts it before nodding. "We should go out to eat to celebrate," he states. "Let's go to your house and eat gyudon, Nagicchi!"

"I didn't ask Genma if we could," I reply, before shrugging. "Then again, I don't think we had anything planned … wanna come buy the ingredients with me?"

Takumi nods, and Souta pauses to tie his headband around his neck. "When are you guys going to file your papers?" he asks. "Takeo-sensei did say it's a bad idea to wait."

"Right," I agree. "I was thinking tomorrow … what about you?"

Souta nods. "Me too. Takumi?"

"Eh …" he shrugs. "I dunno. Whenever, I guess?" I punch him in the shoulder, and he jumps. "Hey!"

"You gotta file those before we come back for our team assignments," I say sternly. "Come with Souta and me tomorrow."

He sighs, but reluctantly agrees after a moment of silence.

We return to my apartment after buying the ingredients for gyudon; Genma isn't back yet, so I simply put the ingredients away in the fridge before turning to look at Takumi and Souta. They're lounging on the couch, and I bring over water for us before taking my own seat.

"Sooo," Takumi starts, "what time is your brother gonna be home at?"

I shrug. "Later? He's been pretty busy lately."

We fall into silence, and it stretches on for a good half a minute before Souta finally breaks it with, "Wanna play shiritori?"

We shrug. "Sure," I agree. "I'll start?"

Both of them nod. "Ringo," I begin.

"Gokudou." _Evil._

"Doubutsu." _Animal._

"Tsunade." _Mooring Rope._

"Detarame." I pause, giving Souta an incredulous look that he grins sheepishly at.

Takumi continues, "Megumi." _Blessing._

"Mizu." _Water._

"Zuboshi." _Bullseye._

"Shigatsu." _April._

"Tsubasa." _Wing._

"Satsumaimo." _Sweet potato._

"Mori." _Forest._

Needless to say, our game goes on for awhile longer — with Souta throwing out some words that I'm surprised he even knows and Takumi managing to pull out of spots that I don't even think I could've — before Souta finally stumbles and blurts out _"meron"_ and loses.

Genma gets home a while later, after we've cycled through a few other games, and I wave at him as he enters, getting to my feet so I can meet him at the genkan.

"I know I didn't ask first, but I bought stuff for gyudon." I pause. "Sorry. Is it OK?"

Genma's eyes flicker to my forehead, before his face lights up with a grin. "As long as you help."

"Souta was gonna, actually," I reply. "Remember? You said yesterday you'd teach him."

"Ah; I did, didn't I?" he offers the boys a friendly wave before returning his attention to me. "Sure; why not. Celebration dinner, right?"

I grin. "Yup."

Takumi and I stay in the living room while Genma and Souta move into the kitchen to begin cooking, and I listen idly to their conversation while also doing my best to hold one with Takumi.

"I forgot to ask you earlier," he starts, after awhile of mindless conversation between the two of us, "but what was your score on the bukijutsu and taijutsu portion?"

I hum. "Combined?"

"Separate."

"Uh … a two on taijutsu and two on bukijutsu. Why?" I ask.

Takumi grins, his eyes lighting up. "I got a two point five on bukijutsu," he states. "I beat you!"

"You beat my genjutsu, too," I mumble. "I only got a one on that. I wonder what our other scores were?"

Takumi shrugs, fiddling with his headband. "We could probably ask whoever our sensei ends up being."

"Or check it ourselves," I reply. "Once we get our IDs, we can look at our records whenever."

Souta comes back out a minute later, patting me on the shoulder to get my attention. "Genma wants to see you," he tells me and I nod, getting to my feet.

"What is it?" I ask him as I enter the kitchen. "Do you need help or something?"

Genma shakes his head. "No — I thought I'd let you serve yourself," he tells me, "since everything is ready. I want you to take as much as you think you can finish."

I grimace, my stomach churning uncomfortably at the thought. "Why?"

"You have a small appetite," he replies. "So you know how much you're capable of eating — and I don't want to give you anymore than that. You need to get used to finishing your food."

I agree with a sigh, grabbing one of the smaller bowls out of the cupboard — and after everyone's serving has been put together we all settle down at the table and eat.

For the first time in years I finish my food — or most of it, that is. There's a bit of rice leftover in the bowl, and I have to force myself to keep going when everyone else finishes eating; there's an awful, terrifying and nagging thought of _'Stop looking at me'_ but I manage to keep myself from saying it.

The feeling of being watched makes me feel sick, and I force myself to continue as quickly as I can despite the fact that my willingness to finish has all but evaporated. Genma offers me a small smile as I place my bowl in the sink.

"Do you want me to do the dishes?" I offer, but he shakes his head.

"Just have fun tonight," he replies. "You've just graduated, after all. The easy days are over now."

I pause. "Genin only do D-rank missions when they start, though."

"True, but D-ranks aren't very stimulating." He pats my shoulder, giving me a slight push towards the living room. "Now go hang out with your friends; have fun."

* * *

"Once again, I'd like to congratulate you all," Takeo-sensei begins, "as of today you are all fully fledged ninja, ready to serve the village. You will be put into squads of three and assigned a jonin sensei who you will from now on be carrying out missions under."

Takumi leans back, leaning his head into his hands as Takeo-sensei starts naming off the teams. "I'm still convinced we're gonna be a team," he whispers to us. "There's no way they'd split us up. Never."

"They want to create balanced teams," I whisper back. "Either that, or a specialized team. So you better hope we fall into one of those two categories."

"Team two — Aizawa Hideki, Kobayashi Tadashi, and Matsumoto Minako."

I wince. Poor Minako; if their jonin-sensei decides to test them on teamwork, I'm not honestly convinced they'll pass.

"Team three — Akiyama Takumi, Shiranui Nagisa, and Yamaguchi Souta."

I blink, and that's apparently long enough for the assignments to register in Takumi's brain, because he laughs happily, sending a smug grin towards me. "See? I told you!"

Souta grins as well, and I can't help the one that forms on my own face. "Well," I muse, "I didn't say it was _impossible."_

Although Takumi's grades aren't the _best,_ they're definitely not the worst; and considering that Souta and I both came out in the top ten of our class, it means that we're likely going to be expected to specialize in something, because our team right now isn't exactly balanced.

What that something is, I don't know — I can only hope it's not too … bad. Specialized teams tend to last the longest, unless it's a combat team — in which they're better off hoping to god they survive.

I run over our scores, or at least the ones I know, and immediately am able to rule that out. If anything, team two would be a better choice for a frontal-assault team; Hideki's taijutsu and ninjutsu scores are relatively high, Tadashi can take hits, and Minako will likely be slotted as the team medic.

" … And that's it for the teams," Takeo-sensei finishes. "There will be no switching, so don't bother asking. You will be introduced to your jonin-sensei after lunch, so please return before twelve."

Souta hums. "I wonder who our sensei is gonna be? Nagisa, did your brother say anything about who it could be?"

"Nope." I draw the word out, leaning my cheek into my palm. "I just hope to _god_ it isn't one of his friends …"

Takumi scoffs. "I bet it isn't," he replies flippantly. "Wouldn't that be, uh … like … a whatchamacallit?"

"A what?"

He flushes in embarrassment. "You know! It's when you can't do something because you know them and could be biased."

"Oh — you mean a conflict of interest?" Souta guesses, and Takumi nods.

"Yeah! That!"

I roll my eyes, shaking my head at the both of them. "No one worries about that, Takumi. Besides, it's not like they're _my_ friends."

We head out to the courtyard to eat lunch, basking in the warmth from the sun as we munch on our bentos, idly talking about the team placements.

"So I was thinking," I begin, "team two. You think they'll be a frontal-assault squad? I can't see them failing Hideki out. His nin and taijutsu are too high."

Takumi nods. "Of course they're not gonna fail the asshole out. But what about team seven?" He offers. "I can't see them going anywhere. Setsuna, Hisato, and Daichi aren't really good at anything."

"Hey," Souta scolds, "that's pretty mean, Takumi. Hisato got better written scores than you."

"But Daichi and Setsuna didn't." Takumi yawns, slapping the lid back onto his bento after finishing the last bits of rice. "C'mon, don't you think it's obvious? They put the worse ones together so that they're less likely to pass."

"And then get slotted into the Genin Corps," I finish, offering the other half of my bento to the boy. He takes it without question. "Then who do you think are gonna pass?"

Takumi hums. "Well, definitely us," he starts. "Team two as well. Maybe Kana's team?"

"I think Eisuke's team will make it," Souta argues. "Or … wait, Eisuke is on Kana's team, isn't he?"

Takumi frowns. "Is he? I don't remember."

I nod. "He is. Eisuke, Kana, and Kenta. Team nine," I recite. "As long as we pass, I don't really care who else does."

"Aw, that's so mean Nagisa," Takumi whines. "It'd suck if us and that asshole Hideki's team were the only ones to become Genin; think of how boring it'd be!"

Souta doesn't say anything, but I can tell he agrees with Takumi. I just shrug.

We return to our class after awhile longer, and a glance at the clock shows that there's still about ten minutes until twelve. Not everyone has returned back, yet; either that, or they've been picked up early.

The three of us settle into another game of shiritori as we wait. I notice that most of the teams have already gravitated together, forming their own little groups; some of them are talking, while others are just ignoring each other and socializing with their friends on another team. I send a silent thank you to whoever put the teams together — I don't know what I'd have done if I got placed into a team with anyone else from my class.

The classroom door cracks open practically the second the clock hits twelve, and a woman steps through, her eyes roaming the classroom. Her blonde hair is drawn into a bun on the top of her head, and she's dressed in standard jonin wear. "Team three?" She calls out, and I glance up.

"Here," I call back, raising my hand slightly. I follow Takumi and Souta out of the bench, and the woman looks us all over before nodding.

"Meet me at training ground sixteen in twenty minutes — and try not to be late," she requests, before heading right back out the classroom. She's gone by the time we step into the hallway and I sigh.

"Well, this'll be fun," I say dryly. "And before you ask, Takumi, no; I don't know who she is."

Takumi pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. "I wasn't gonna ask you that," he shoots back. "I was just gonna ask if you knew where that training ground is."

I pause. "Um … no, I don't," I mumble.

"She only gave us twenty minutes," Souta points out, "so it has to be somewhere we can find easily, right?"

I shrug. "Maybe … the administration building probably has a map."

* * *

"You made it." The voice comes from above us, and I turn to look at it. The woman from earlier is seated upon one of the tree branches, and she drops down in front of us, nodding to herself. "Good — you're capable of listening to directions."

Takumi shifts in place. "You're our sensei, right?" he asks. "Are you gonna introduce yourself or something?"

A brief, small smile comes to her face before it's quickly replaced by her previous impassive expression. "Or something," she confirms.

Takumi frowns, and Souta quickly steps forward, raising his hand slightly as he speaks. "Um — so, sensei, what is your name then?"

She turns her gaze to him. "My name is Yamanaka Madoka. There's no need for us to do team introduction this early," she tells us, before making a motion with her hand at us. We all share a look before following after her.

Madoka leads us to an area with training posts set up and motions for us to stand across from her.

"As I stated earlier, my name is Yamanaka Madoka and I'll be your jonin sensei. My job is to mold you into proper ninja — I will teach and prepare you as necessary." Her blue eyes scan the three of us, and instinctively I straighten up my posture. "Beginning now, you are my students."

Takumi crosses his arms over his chest. "Sensei, don't you want to know about us though? Like our names and stuff?"

Madoka-sensei gives him an unreadable look. "Fine then," she replies, "give me your names."

Takumi blinks. "Uh—uh, OK … well, I'm Akiyama Takumi. I like—"

"No," she interrupts, "I just want your names. Proper introductions can wait."

Takumi fumes, but thankfully keeps his temper under control. Madoka turns her gaze to Souta, who unclenches his hands from the tight fists they'd been clenched into. "I-I'm Yamaguchi Souta," he says softly, and it's obvious he's intimidated. I wince.

I've only been around Madoka-sensei for a total of maybe a minute now, but it's already become clear to me that showing weakness around her isn't the best idea. The way her eyes roam us, like we're some kind of specimen to be examined— it's … unsettling. The fact that she's a Yamanaka makes it even more unsettling — I know what that clan is capable of doing.

Reading through people's mind, controlling their actions … someone with those abilities isn't someone I want looking at me too carefully.

There's too much for me to hide, too much at risk — and I clench my hands into fists until I feel my nails biting into the skin of my palms.

"And you?"

I breathe out slowly. Keep calm, Nagisa. Keep calm.

"Shiranui Nagisa," I say simply, making sure to keep my posture straight and stance comfortable. Don't show weakness, don't show fear, don't show discomfort.

This has to be a test.

… Right?

"Takumi, Souta, and Nagisa," she repeats, the names rolling off her tongue smoothly. "Very well. We will begin the test, now."

"Test?" Takumi repeats. "But we already passed a test." He points at his headband, as if it's proof of what he's saying. "See? We have the headband and everything. And since our scores were all good, you can't fail us." He pauses. "Right?"

"The graduation test just judges whether you have the potential to become a ninja," Madoka explains. "This test determines whether you stay on a squad, get shipped off to the Genin Corps, or sent back to the academy."

Souts's eyes widen. "Back to the academy? But why?"

"Just because you can pull off basic jutsu and pass a simple exam doesn't mean you're cut out to be a ninja," she chastises. "There's much more to it."

"So what's our test, then?" I ask, and thankfully my voice doesn't shake with the nerves that are rolling right under my skin. "If it's gonna test teamwork then we'll pass it for sure; we're friends, after all."

Madoka's expression doesn't change. Instead, she removes three scrolls from her waist pouch and hands them off to us. "Your job is to complete the tasks written in those scrolls and return to this training field by the end of the day. If you do, you'll pass; simple as that."

I unravel the scroll and frown. Only a location is written on it; I turn to Souta and Takumi and see similar looks on their faces.

"Sensei," Takumi begins, "there's only a name written here."

"Yes," Madoka replies. "There are two other scrolls as well, Takumi. I'll leave you three to it; there will be no outside assistance from me during this test."

The three of us huddle up together, showing each other our scrolls; while mine has a location, Takumi's has a name and Souta's a single word, written in hiragana — _akeru._

"Um … sensei?" Souta starts tentatively. "Which _akeru_ is this?"

Madoka smiles slightly. "Well, you'll have to figure that out yourself. Now, the clock is ticking — remember, you only have until five tonight."

Souta winces, stiffening up slightly, and I pat his shoulder reassuringly. "It's fine; we'll figure it out," I soothe. "Maybe the location will help us figure it out."

 _Akeru —_ it could mean open, begin, end, or empty. Definitely not one of the worst homophones to be given, but still a bit difficult to figure out without any context clues or kanji. She could've given us _shi,_ in which we'd have better luck finding a needle in a haystack than figuring out which _shi_ she meant.

"So the location is … um … I don't recognize this address," Takumi mumbles. "Let's see …"

Souta glances at my scroll as well. "I think it's by the orphanage; I recognize the name, though …" he hesitates for a moment. "Well, it's … we're going to stand out if we go there."

"Please don't tell me it's a strip club?" I mumble. "That's the last place I want to go."

Souta shakes his head. "No … I think it's a bar."

"Well, we gotta hurry up and do this so we can pass!" Takumi cries out. "Madoka-sensei—wait, where'd she go?"

I turn and see that Madoka is nowhere to be seen, leaving us alone on the training field; but I'm almost positive she's watching from somewhere. It wouldn't be a test otherwise.

"Souta, do you think you can lead us to the place?"

He nods, and we all hurry after him. On the way there, we discuss our various options and ways of approaching the situation; in the end, we come up with four routes we can take. One main one, and three in case that first one fails.

It takes a bit of searching, but eventually we do find the building and, as Souta said, it is in fact a bar. Considering we're genin now we're _technically_ allowed to go in and drink, but it's pretty much an unspoken rule that it's not a place for children.

Still, it's not like we have much of a choice.

"If we're supposed to find someone in there, it's probably better if we don't go in … like this," I say. "We should henge into someone older."

"Plus, we don't all need to go in, do we?" Souta adds. "One or two of us can go in while the other stays out here to watch. You know, in case we have to get out quickly or something?"

I nod. "Yeah, true. Who's going?"

"Well … Takumi has the highest ninjutsu score of all of us," Souta points out. "And I'm tied with you for second, Nagisa. So I guess I'll stay out here — or at least, I'll stay in the background. Just in case."

Takumi crosses his arms over his chest. "What are we even going to be doing in there, anyways? All we have is a word."

"We just have to work with it," I respond. "Maybe it's a clue or something."

We step into the nearby alleyway and form our respective henge; while Takumi and Souta go for what appears to just be a slightly older version of themselves, I go for something more bland — but Takumi just shakes his head at me when he sees it.

"You look like a totally different person now," he states. "Like … completely! Why'd you make your hair black?"

"It's better to not look like yourself if you're pretending to be someone else," I point out. "You two are kinda obvious about it; don't you remember Takeo-sensei's lesson on infiltration?"

Takumi frowns. "We aren't infiltrating though, we're just—" then he cuts himself off. "Ah … we're information gathering, aren't we?"

I nod. "That's what I thought, too."

"So if we're gathering intel," Souta begins, "we need to be discrete about it … so maybe it's better if Takumi stays in the back and Nagisa and I go in?"

"Hey — are you saying I'm not discrete?" Takumi accuses. "I can totally be discrete!"

Souta shakes his head. "Nuh-uh — remember the exercises we did in the academy? You barely passed them because you were too obvious about it!"

"But that was _then!"_

"Guys … does it matter who does what?" I ask. "We need to use our strengths to our advantage; Takumi, you have the highest genjutsu score of all of us … although we don't know any real useful genjutsu other than cloaking ones, those can really help to make us more inconspicuous."

Takumi sputters, struggling to find an argument, but in the end he gives up, relenting. "Fine … I get it. You and Souta get to actually do the cool stuff while I have to support."

"Like I said; play to our strengths."

With that figured out we head into the bar, flashing our headbands to the bouncer. Thanks to our henged appearances he doesn't even bat an eye at us — considering it's the middle of the day there's no real reason for him to suspect anything.

The bar is mostly empty this time of day, and I begin to scan the crowd for anyone who could fit the name we were given; meanwhile, I feel Takumi cast the cloaking genjutsu we were taught in the academy. It's a version of the _Kakuremino no Jutsu_ we learned in the very beginning of the academy, except rather than using cloth or other nearby items to hide it instead uses a simple genjutsu.

It's one of the only two genjutsu we're even taught in the academy, and of course Takumi was the one in our group of friends who picked it up almost instantly.

There's a single man seated at the bar, and I exchange a look with Souta; he returns it, and the two of us make our way over to the man.

"Hey there," I offer, resisting the urge to wince at how my voice sounds henged. It brings back a flash of memories that I'd thought I forgotten about ages ago. "What are you doing alone at this time?"

The man looks up in surprise. "Uh …" he stumbles for an answer, and while he's not quite drunk it's obvious he's a bit tipsy. "What do you two need?"

"The bar is pretty empty at this time of day; what're you doing here by yourself?" I continue, as if he didn't even speak.

Souta slides into the seat beside the man, his henge not even stuttering despite his obvious nerves. "We're looking for someone; do you think you can help us out?"

"W-Why me?" The man stutters, as he calls for another refill on his glass. His hands tremble uneasily. "It can't be so important you'll track someone down to a bar and ask."

"Hey—don't get defensive," I reply, taking a seat on the opposite stool so that he's effectively blocked in by the two of us. "We're just looking, alright? So help us out."

The refill is set down in front of him, and he eyes it warily, as if we've poisoned it, before taking a long drink and setting it back down. "Fine," he offers back. "What are you looking for?"

Souta and I share a look. "A friend of ours was supposed to be leaving today," I begin, the lie rolling off my tongue. "We … haven't been able to find him since yesterday, and the last time we saw him was with you. His apartment was empty this morning."

The man's eyes widen slightly. "Ikuo-san?" He blurts out, and Souta blinks in surprise, taken aback by the sudden exclamation. Thankfully, the man's eyes are focused on me, and I smooth my emotions out, nodding. I wasn't expecting our first plan to actually work; we had four, set up, just in case the previous ones didn't work out—it's just our luck that he latched onto the first one we thought up.

"Yeah. So have you seen him?"

Suddenly he won't meet our eyes, and there's a flash of chakra at my back. I glance over my shoulder, and see Takumi making a motion with his hands; it takes me barely a second to realize he's signing a message to us.

' _Unknown entering'_ it relays, and I sign back at him behind my back, turning my attention back to Souta and the man; Souta has taken over the questioning, and I meet his eyes.

I release a bit of chakra, and the man nearly chokes on his drink. "Hey … so we never got your name, actually," I start, when there's a lapse in the conversation between him and Souta. "What is it?"

He sputters something out that I don't catch. Thankfully, Souta does.

"Akira-san," Souta says, "we really need your cooperation … after all, if we don't find Ikuo-san, then you'll be cast for treason as well."

I jerk at that word, and so does Akira. "T-Treason?" he sputters. "Wait, what're you talking about—?"

"Ikuo-san is wanted for treason," Souta lies, and I'm surprised by how convincing it sounds. This isn't something the three of us discussed at all. "You were the last person to see him, and since he's gone missing … it really doesn't look good on you."

I nod, quickly falling into the lie as well. "If you didn't know, of course, then this can be cleared up quickly … without a trip to T&I. But if you keep pretending to not know anything, then we can't help you."

Akira is sweating bullets. A twinge of victory comes to life inside of me; I'm not sure if this is what we were supposed to do, but it doesn't feel wrong or off.

And, considering the reaction we're getting, it's obvious this guy is guilty of something.

Akeru … who would've thought our first guess would be the right one?

It only takes another minute before he's spilling his guts to us—and I look over my shoulder at Takumi, offering him a single thumbs up, before the confession is interrupted by a hand on both mine and Souta's shoulders.

Madoka-sensei's voice rings clear through the room, and I jerk when the man between Souta and I disappears in a puff of smoke. "Well," she begins, "that was quick. I'm surprised you got it so quickly."

"A-A clone?" Souta stammers. "Madoka-sensei?"

She looks at Takumi, whose genjutsu has wilted by now. "The three of you, meet be back at training ground sixteen immediately. I won't be kept waiting."

And then she's gone, and the three of us exchange a single look.

"I … hope that's a good sign," Souta mumbles, as we leave the bar, our henges still in tact. We wait until we've reached the alleyway before releasing them. "I didn't even notice Madoka-sensei come in—when did she come in?"

Takumi takes the lead of our group. "I think it was the unknown I told Nagisa about," he replies. "That's the only person who came in. But the old guy was a clone the whole time?"

I nod. "Probably Madoka-sensei's clone. She's the one administering this test … even if it was weirder than I expected it to be," I mumble the last part. "I bet she was in the bar the whole time, though. I think the unknown was just a normal person coming in."

"Huh … I really didn't notice," Souta says with a sigh. "I didn't pay enough attention."

"Well," I muse, "it was Takumi's job to keep watch. After all, he was just staying back—hey!" I barely avoid a punch to the shoulder, and Takumi offers me a glare.

"It was all our job," he shoots back. "If we're a team, we gotta all watch out for each other. It's not just _my_ job, Nagicchi."

I frown. "But we gave team assignments, so it kinda was your job."

Takumi groans. "Ugh … whatever! We passed, right? Madoka-sensei seemed pleased, I think. So that's all that matters."

"We probably passed," I agree. Souta nods as well.

* * *

Madoka-sensei looks at us all for a long moment, and we squirm under her gaze, before she finally tells us, "Congratulations — you three pass."

"Like we would ever _fail,"_ Takumi says proudly, as if he wasn't freaking out the entire walk here. "We're too great for that! Right guys?"

Souta grins. "We did a good job, right sensei? We figured it out!"

Madoka nods. "For your first time, you did well. Considering your young ages, you did especially well."

"Hey, we're _ninja_ now," Takume butts in. "So don't call us young! Age doesn't matter when you're us."

"However," she continues, as if Takumi didn't even speak, and Takumi goes silent. "There's a lot you three need to work on. If you haven't figured it out yet, your team has been created as an espionage-infiltration specialty group." She gives us a moment to process these words before continuing, "I've been assigned as your teacher due to specializing in this field; I expect a lot from you three."

Souta nods. "Sensei, we'll do our best; so please teach us." He bows respectfully, and I follow suit; after a moment, Takumi bows as well, albeit less low than Souta and I. "We promise to do our best!"

"Yeah—we'll be a great team!" Takumi exclaims. "We did awesome this time, right Madoka-sensei? You said it yourself!"

She sighs. "Takumi … yes. You three did well. But there were numerous mistakes that were made as well. There's a lot to work on."

And then, she walks us through the things we did wrong, and I'm taken aback by how many small mistakes that we made. When we went in, it felt like we had it all covered; that we'd gotten everything correct, but apparently not.

"You approached the situation far too carelessly," she finishes. "In time, you'll learn to do better; but until then, we'll continue training, and working through the skill necessary to properly infiltrate and gather information."

I stretch my arms behind my back and ask, "Sensei, does that mean our training will be focused on this kind of stuff?"

"No," she replies. "You three need to improve your taijutsu, ninjutsu, and genjutsu. Infiltration is not just about being sneaky. Ideally, you'll never have to be in a situation where it's necessary to engage in combat; but the world doesn't function like that. Sometimes, no matter how good you are, combat cannot be avoided."

"We'll do exercises that will teach you how to infiltrate properly, but for now, they'll be taking the back burner. It's simply the end goal you're all working towards."

There's a brief silence, and Takumi finally breaks it with, "So … sensei, _now_ can we do team introductions? After all, we passed, right? We're your team now!"

Madoka smiles slightly. "Very well. We might as well."

* * *

 **A/N: I'll be honest ... I hate this chapter so much I don't even want to look at it any longer. I couldn't think of a test for the team that would fit what I wanted, so this one I came up with feels really awkward and weird. That's why this chapter took so long to write, actually; I was just pouring over possible tests for the three of them that would do what I wanted for it to.**

 **I don't know if it worked, honestly.**

 **Let me know what you think of this chapter! I love hearing from you guys, and all the feedback I've received has helped me a lot with writing. I've been going through some tough times, so hearing feedback from all of you really helps me get through those times.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	9. Genin: Chapter 8

**Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto**

* * *

The way that Madoka-sensei sets up our training is like this; every day except Wednesday we meet up at training ground sixteen, at eleven in the morning. We do drills and practices for two hours, before taking a break—then, every other day, we go and do whatever D-rank mission is available for us to do, before returning to the training grounds and continuing training for another two hours.

Although she doesn't tell us this outright, it's almost implied that sensei expects us to be practicing before we officially meet up as a team, which leads to me, Takumi, and Souta meeting up at _nine_ to practice with each other without her supervision. Granted, we do mess around for the first thirty minutes to an hour, and we don't take it nearly as seriously as we do with Madoka-sensei. Most of the time I don't even break a sweat during those practice sessions, nor do Souta or Takumi.

It's a hellish, grueling schedule and my muscles are constantly sore for the first two weeks; after that, it becomes easier, but it doesn't stop me from doubling over from exhaustion by the time we've finished our first drills and taijutsu practice. The short reprieve we get between drills and sparring isn't nearly long enough.

The D-ranks are boring, as expected; doing chores for the village will never be fun, but at least it makes money and gives us mission experience. Each D-rank is a step closer to a C-rank, Madoka-sensei reminds us, when any of us begin to complain about the mundane work.

A month and a half after our graduation ceremony, after completing our D-rank and returning to the training field for practice, Madoka-sensei has us stand in front of her. We wait for her to begin speaking, and Takumi leans heavily into my shoulder, whining about something related to the mission. His clothes are still slightly damp from earlier.

"Today, we'll be working on genjutsu again," Madoka-sensei tells us. "I've already tested you on the academy ones and worked with you on those; however, for the rest of today, we'll be working on a new jutsu."

"What jutsu is it, sensei?" Souta asks, his eyes wide. "What does it do?"

Madoka-sensei nods at him. "Patience, Souta. As I was saying; this jutsu is used for both interrogation and as a means of escape; a way to buy time. It distracts the enemy by showing him his worst fear—the _Narakumi no jutsu."_

I stiffen immediately. Hell viewing technique. If I remember right, in the anime, Kakashi used it on Sakura. It showed her worst fear—and now, Madoka-sensei is going to turn it onto us.

I already know what my fear will be. The white world, the endless walking, the doors in the horizon; the world that hasn't left me despite the fact that I left it eleven years ago. The world that still haunts me at night.

"Showing your worst fear, huh?" Takumi straightens up, crossing his arms over his chest. "How's it gonna do that? I don't even know what my worst fear is, sensei."

"Genjutsu works by controlling the cerebral nervous system and taking control of all five senses. Although you may not be aware of what your worst fear is, genjutsu can and will figure it out.."

Souta's eyes widen. "Oh—so that's why we've been doing so many chakra exercises!" He exclaims. "It's because you've been planning to teach us a genjutsu, right?"

Madoka-sensei smiles slightly. "Correct. Genjutsu is nothing without chakra control; simple E and D-rank genjutsu don't require the fine control that higher ranking ones do, but you still need to have a firm grasp on chakra control to utilize them."

"Ah, sensei, don'tcha know? I'm the best at genjutsu out of all of us," Takumi brags. "I got a 2.5 on it during the graduation exam!"

Madoka-sensei hums. "We will see how well you hold up under an actual genjutsu, Takumi. Don't be cocky."

"Huh? I'm not—I'm just saying!" He protests, a whine draining into his voice. "Souta and Nagisa only got a 1 in it. I'm 2.5 times better than them!"

"Hey," Souta begins, "I got a two, not a one."

"No need to brag," I mumble, shoving his shoulder lightly. "My taijutsu was better. And ninjutsu. And—"

"Ahh! I get it, I get it!" He cuts me off. "Just lemme have my victory over you guys on genjutsu!"

I exchange a look with Souta, who looks amused by our conversation, and I just sigh. "Fine," I relent.

"So then, how will we learn it, sensei?" Souta asks. "Are you gonna show us the handsigns?"

Madoka-sensei shakes her head. "No. I will be placing all three of you under the genjutsu, one at a time—the best way to learn a genjutsu is to experience it first hand." I pale at that, clenching my hands into fists to keep them from shaking. "Afterwards, I will show you the handsigns and you'll practice on each other."

"Ah … sensei, but I don't really wanna know my worst fear …" Takumi protests. "What if it's traumatizing?"

Madoka-sensei looks at him with a shred of amusement. "Takumi," she begins, "there's nothing you should've experienced so far that would traumatize you. You're fresh genin."

I wince.

"Let's review the ways to break out a genjutsu, first," Madoka-sensei continues. "Nagisa?"

I swallow to steady my voice. "You send chakra to your brain and disrupt the genjutsu," I inform her. "Or you can use outside pain to break the illusion."

She nods in approval. "We've practiced using genjutsu kai several times in the past, as have your academy instructors. However, the most important part of disrupting the genjutsu is to remember you're in it; do not forget that."

"How would we forget though, sensei?" Souta asks. "You're telling us we're gonna go into a genjutsu, so won't we know right away?"

Sensei shakes her head. "Fear is a powerful emotion; it blinds people. When you're facing your worst fear, it's hard to remember that it isn't real."

Souta crosses his arms with a frown, but says nothing. He's likely thinking back to the genjutsu test we had during the academy exam—it was cast upon entering the room, and we had to identify it and release it before continuing with the test.

Back then, it'd been a simple visual manipulation; each student's had been slightly different to avoid cheating. In my case, the spiral on Takeo-sensei's headband was backwards. I never bothered to ask Takumi or Souta what theirs was.

"Sensei?" I begin. "Um … the _narakumi no jutsu_ ; can you see what we see?"

Madoka-sensei stares at me for a moment before shaking her head. "There is a ghost," she explains, "which allows me to faintly see what is cast immediately after casting the genjutsu, but besides that, no. The details are only for you to see."

I breathe out in relief. At least no one will have to see my fear.

 _Maybe it won't be the white world anymore,_ I think, only to grimace. No; that's unlikely. I still dream of it; not every night, but frequent enough that I'm unsettled quite often upon waking up. My repetitions still continue to be a calming agent, especially after waking up from _that world_ and sometimes it isn't until the sun is risen that I realize I've been mumbling formulas and random information for hours.

"Who will go first?"

"I say Nagicchi goes first," Takumi volunteers me, and I jerk from my spot beside her. "I wanna know if your fear is still of falling off a bridge and dying. I wonder how that'd go?"

"But—"

Souta shrugs. "If you wanna go first, Nagisa, then I don't mind."

"I—" I don't. I don't want to go first, I don't want to go at _all._ But … at least it'll be over with. I'll have time to recover before we start training more. So, reluctantly, I agree. "Fine."

Souta and Takumi stay at the sidelines while I stand across from Madoka-sensei. Although her face is pretty, it's a bit intimidating considering her blank expression and the height difference—I only reach her collarbone. I meet her gaze straight on, forcing myself not to tremble.

Although I see the hand signs and hear her say the jutsu aloud, I don't see any difference, at first—a wind kicks up a few leaves, making them blur across my vision, but otherwise … nothing.

Until it isn't.

I look down at my feet, and my eyes widen when I see the ground around me rapidly fading from green to white—I look up in fear and see the figures of my team evaporate as the white spreads; people form around me, walking past with lifeless eyes and rigid motions. Dolls.

The door is in the distance, and I feel myself trembling, my breathing pick up. No, no—it's not real. This can't be real.

I return to my memories; to the formulas I recite them desperately, only to stumble when one of them is forgotten—and I _scream._

Immediately I drop to a crouch, my hands clasped over my ears as if I can stop the information from flowing out. In my panic, my struggle to remember the equations for sin, cosine, and tangent, I realize that I can't remember my name.

 _What's my name, what's my name what's my name?_

 _Who is my family? My family on Earth—I've forgotten, I've forgotten no no no no—!_

I shrink in on myself, nails digging into the skin of my head. Someone bumps me and I jerk away, a terrified gasp coming from my mouth.

 _Half angle formulas—sin of theta over 2 is the square root of one minus cosine theta, divided by two. Also written as sin squared theta equals 1 minus cosine 2 theta. Cosine of theta over 2 equals square root 1 minus cosine theta—no, plus one cosine theta; no, no—I can't remember._

 _I can't remember._

I shrink on myself. Hide. Have to hide, have to stay safe, have to remember I can't _forget everything._ My eyes are squeezed shut tightly, breathing labored, and someone touches my shoulder. I barely feel it—formulas continue. I struggle for a bit before gaining my footing.

 _Sin 2 theta equals 2 sin theta cosine theta. Cosine 2 theta equals cosine squared theta minus sin squared theta, 2 cosine squared minus 1 theta, or 1 minus 2 sin squared theta. Tangent 2 theta equals 2 tangent theta divided by 1 minus tangent squared theta._

Something lifts my chin, and instinctively my eyes fly open. An unfamiliar—no, familiar; the face is familiar, but the name who is it who _is it—_ face looks at me with a frown, though there's concern in her eyes.

"Nagisa," she says softly. "Come back. You're alright."

Nagisa, who's Nagisa? My name is—

 _[—]_

I exhale shakily, still reciting formulas, and she looks to the side. I don't follow her gaze, instead staring at her face in an attempt to remember. The nagging feeling at the back of my head is growing louder with each second.

"It was just a genjutsu," she continues. "It's over now."

And then, something snaps into place—Madoka-sensei.

"S-Sensei," I whisper, my voice weak. My brain is buzzing, still trying to force formulas out. "You're real?"

Her lips quirk before returning to their usual straight line. "Yes. You aren't in the genjutsu anymore."

I swallow thickly, my body still shaking. "Nagisa; can you stop suppressing your chakra?" She requests, and I blink a few times. "It's a bit unnerving to be unable to sense my own student right in front of me."

"I'm … not?" I say weakly, before pausing. I'm hiding still—I'm small. Invisible, because maybe if I'm invisible the world wouldn't see me and take away my memories.

So I let it go.

Her tense expression relaxes. "Good. Stand up." She gets up from her crouched position, and I follow suit after a few seconds, my hands twitching as I attempt to ease the lingering panic in my system.

I almost forgot again.

"You were unable to dispel the genjutsu on your own," Madoka-sensei begins, "likely due to extreme fear as a reaction to the genjutsu. We will work on it."

She sends me to sit where the boys are while calling Takumi over, and Souta watches me with a deep concern on his face.

"Nagisa-chan?" He starts, falling back onto the childish suffix that we'd all dismissed years ago. "Are you alright?"

I shut my eyes, letting my palms dig into my eyes for a moment, before nodding. "I … I'm fine," I lie. "I just was scared."

"What did you see?" He asks curiously. "You don't have to tell me, but … it wasn't falling off a bridge, was it?"

I hesitate, before shaking my head. "It wasn't."

Souta nods, but says nothing else about it.

I don't pay attention to how it goes for Takumi and when Souta takes his place, I realize he's in a much better state than I am. Still, there's a stiffness in his shoulders, and it's likely the reason why he doesn't ask what I saw.

Simply; "Mine was bad, too."

I wonder, for a moment, what someone like Takumi would be deeply afraid of. As a child, it was spiders. I doubt it's still spiders.

I zone out until Madoka-sensei calls for us. Souta is already there, his face pale and hands clenching his shirt tightly.

"It's hard to confront your worst fear," Madoka-sensei begins, a slight touch of pity in her voice. "As expected, all three of you have had bad reactions."

Her gaze settles on me as she talks and I squirm in place. The last thing I want is to be under her scrutiny; but my complete shut out after seeing the white world has put me right in the spotlight.

"Well what'd you expect?" Takumi snaps, before lowering his voice a bit. "You showed us our worst fears—we're gonna be upset afterwards!"

"I never said it was wrong," Madoka-sensei scolds him lightly. "Don't put words into my mouth. I'm simply stating the fact. The _narakumi no jutsu_ is often underestimated, due to being a D-rank genjutsu. However, as the three of you have seen, the rank does not mean it is useless; fear is a powerful emotion."

She inclines her head slightly. "I am sorry to have to be the one to put you through it. But you're aware, now, of your worst fear; if you're ever caught up in it, you'll have the advantage of knowing what you fear, allowing you to more easily break out."

"It seems that I miscalculated how the three of you would react in response to the genjutsu, so we'll begin learning the actual hand signs and jutsu on Thursday rather than today," she finishes. "You're dismissed for today. Nagisa—" she calls out to me, and I freeze, "stay behind, please."

Souta and Takumi hesitate; I can tell they want to wait for me. But they go on their way, because sensei didn't call for them or tell them to stay.

I look at her warily, eyes darting anywhere but her face. "How are you feeling?" She asks lightly. "Your reaction is unusual for someone your age."

"Sorry," I mumble.

"Do not apologize. I am merely curious as to what would bring you to such a state." When I look up in confusion, I realize her face has softened from its usual expression. "Shutting down completely and suppressing your chakra to the point where it's unnoticable … is not a reaction that a genin should have."

 _Are you traumatized?_ The question isn't asked, but I can hear it in the air. _Did something happen that I should be aware of?_

"It's … nothing," I mumble. "I just do that when scared."

She frowns. I search for something, anything to use an excuse—there's the Kyuubi, though I was only a year old at the time. I'm not supposed to remember things from that age.

Still … if I use that, at least I have a reason. It would make more sense than the real one.

"I … I didn't really see anything," I lie, carefully keeping my tone even and face blank, "but I felt … evil. Something evil."

Madoka-sensei hums. "Something evil?"

"It's … red?" I guess. "And big. Powerful. It crushes me."

"So you became small to avoid being sensed," she assumes, and I nod quickly. "I see."

"But—really, sensei; there's nothing to worry about," I say quickly, desperate to get off this topic. "I'm—I'll have to learn to deal with it. A-And I will. So … um, please don't say anything about it."

"Very well." I breathe out a sigh of relief. "But, Nagisa; if it renders you incapable, then it's something that must be dealt with."

I shake my head. "It won't; I promise. I just … wasn't expecting it." Yet another lie. I knew exactly what I was going to see. "I'll be fine."

Madoka-sensei stares at me, and I shiver involuntarily. Hopefully she can't tell I've been lying—considering there are half truths in there as well, that should make up for it … right?

"If it becomes a problem, let me know," she orders firmly. "I am a Yamanaka; we work with the mind."

 _Never._

I just smile despite my thought. "Thanks, sensei; I will." There's a pause, before I ask, "Can I go?"

She agrees, and I hurry away from the training grounds, towards my friends, feeling more than a bit unsettled and nervous over our conversation.

* * *

Yamanaka Madoka watched as her student retreated from the training field, a frown set on her face. She, like many others in her clan, had been trained from a young age to read faces and body language; recognize truths, lies, deception—it's what made her such a good spy. Information gathering is nothing if you can't read between the lines and tell the truth from a lie.

On her student's face, she had seen four lies.

The first—her reaction. A complete shutdown is not an appropriate reaction for any freshly graduated genin. It was concerning in several ways. Madoka had observed her team after getting the assignment, and while she hadn't seen Nagisa in a state of fear, she'd figured out the girl's general way of approaching a situation.

Completely shutting down and trying to hide was not one of those.

Second—what the fear was. Madoka could pass that off without much worry; whatever Nagisa had seen was obviously traumatizing and speaking of it would only invoke more bad memories. It would have to be addressed at a future time, but now was not that time. So, she could let it go.

The third, when she mentioned the fear rendering her incapable. This one was more serious; if, during a mission, a trigger were to be activated, Nagisa would be completely out; not only dead weight to the team, but also a hazard for the team as a whole and a jeopardy to the mission.

Fourth; whether she'd tell Madoka if it became a problem.

Madoka could understand the girl's hesitance, but that didn't make it any better. She was a Yamanaka; while known for destroying minds, they could also heal one. To an extent, that is. But Madoka had worked several times with ninja who, after a particularly traumatizing mission, could not function due to events triggering a flashback or incapacitating terror. She'd worked with traumatized children.

Walking a person through trauma is never a fun process. But it's necessary.

Such was another reason she'd been assigned as the sensei for these three—Shiranui Genma had, in the past, confided in the Hokage about his little sister's odd behaviors. Things that didn't quite match up with how a child her age should act.

There had been the initial thought of a sleeper agent, but it was quickly dismissed. The child had spent her entire life in Konoha, documented. It was all documented in her file.

Which had lead to the next assumption—trauma.

Combined with the fact that, according to Genma, Nagisa tended to avoid adult men who weren't her brother, a grim reality had sunk in.

The girl's eating patterns were poor if her waif-like form was anything to go by. Her sleeping habits likely poor, due to the slight bags under the girl's eyes.

Her kunoichi teacher had made a note in the girl's file that, during the class periods involving sexual manipulation, the girl had withdrawn even more than usual.

It would be a process for Madoka to work through these things with the child. The girl was resistant to anyone's help, so she'd have to be subtle. At least until she'd gained her trust.

As for the two boys; Souta was an orphan from the Kyuubi attack ten years ago. Although the boy had shown to not remember the day at all, his file noted that he was sensitive and easily upset.

Not a target of bullies, but easily breakable regardless. Low self esteem and image. Around his friends it was better, but it was obvious, through observation, that with his friends those things still lingered.

For someone on an E&I team, the combination could be deadly. Not only for himself, but for his team; if there is no confidence in success, then there will be no success. She would have to harden him and fix that problem quickly, lest it become a problem during a mission.

Takumi was the wildcard. Of the three, he appeared to have it best. Two living parents, a nice house; but there was definitely something lurking beneath the surface if Madoka was reading him correctly.

And very rarely did Madoka read a person wrong.

Slotting the three of them as an E&I team seemed like a disaster waiting to happen. Sure, their scores lined up nearly perfect with what such a team should have, and there was the added effect of the three of them already having a close bond. But they were still, in fact, children.

The last time an espionage-infiltration team had been created straight from academy graduates was during the third shinobi war. The team had fallen apart quickly, unable to deal with the stress and pressure of such a role—during an infiltration gone wrong, two had been captured and tortured while the third escaped with severe trauma; he resigned as a ninja immediately and slit his wrists three months later.

It made her position on the team even more crucial.

Yamanaka Madoka knew how to deal with trauma. While she presented herself as unreadable and blank, it was simply an illusion; she felt, just like everyone else. But when people assume someone is uncaring, they are less hesitant and more honest with their actions and feelings. Keeping this team stable would be the number one priority.

She knew how to turn her facade into something completely different. Whatever the mission required, she could become. Whatever the children needed her to become, she could become.

Teaching a group of eleven and twelve year old children this would be significantly harder. If she took it too fast, they may break; if she took it too slow, then it would never amount to anything.

The Hokage had put a considerable weight on her shoulders; but Madoka was never one to let it weigh her down. It pushed her forward; she had a task, a goal, and something to work for. Not only herself, but three genin as well.

She had her work cut out for her.

* * *

"How long do genin do D-ranks for?" I ask Genma, later that night. I arrived home a good two hours before him, and spent the entire time laying on my bed, reciting formulas and kanji in my head. The few remaining bits of English I remember had been there, too. By the time he got home, I'd calmed down enough to appear normal. "I feel like this is never going to end …"

D-ranks are safe, my brain reminds me, but I shake that thought away. Yes, D-ranks are safe; but I'm not learning or gaining any actual, valuable experience that'll help me in the future.

It's a push and pull.

"I did D-ranks for two months before getting my first C-rank," Genma replies, and I sigh, leaning back in my chair. "Then again, my team was a bit erratic."

I swing my feet idly. "Gai and … Aoba?" I guess. "Right? Or was it Gai and Ebisu?"

"Gai and Ebisu," my brother replies. "Speaking of which; you're free tomorrow, right?"

I pause. " … Yeah," I reply. "It's Wednesday. Why?"

"I'm also free tomorrow; for once," he replies. "Why don't we spar? It's been awhile."

I blink, sitting up straighter at that. "Wait—really?" Genma nods, and I grin. "Yeah—let's do it." I push apart the fish on my plate, pulling it apart even more than I already have. "But … um, it'll just be us, right?"

"Hm? Yeah. Why do you ask?"

I roll my eyes. "Because last time, you brought three of your friends with you; I got my ass kicked four different ways."

Genma laughs at the memory. "Well, you did ask for it," he reminds me. I huff. "But no; it's just us. Unless you'd like a repeat of last time?"

"No—no." I shake my head firmly. "Nope. I'd rather not."

I'll have to let Souta and Takumi know I'm busy tomorrow, though; we'd planned to hang out, like old times.

After dinner is over I take off towards their places; Souta's just began to get used to living on his own, so I'm not surprised when I find him at Takumi's house rather than his appartment.

"Oh—Nagisa," Takumi acknowledges. I see a flash of concern across his face, but it's gone almost immediately. "What're you doing here?"

I step into his house, not leaving the genkan, and Souta comes up beside the boy. "I'm just letting you know I'm busy tomorrow," I reply. "Genma is gonna train with me."

"Aw … alright. Have fun," Souta tells me. "We can always hang out after, right?"

I shrug. "I think I might spend the day with him … it's been awhile since we both had the same day off. Sorry."

"You owe us, Nagicchi," Takumi huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "For ditchin' us like this. Especially after what Madoka-sensei made us deal with today."

I wince at the memory. Souta looks similarly uncomfortable. "Yeah," I manage, "yeah. I guess I do owe you."

Takumi shoves my shoulder playfully, and I smile weakly. "Anyways, I'll see you guys Thursday, if not tomorrow. Don't get into too much trouble without me."

"As if. Ugh … just go," Takumi whines. "It better be worth it."

* * *

That night, I dream of them, for some reason. I've long since grown used to the snippets of memories that I see in my dreams, and it's been years since I've woken up in tears over one of them. It's just become … normal.

Mixed in with them is the white world—the one Madoka-sensei forced me to relive earlier in the day. The two forces mesh, combine; they become a grotesque and terrifying mess, and when I wake up with tears clogging my throat and my chest tight from panic, I decide that this one is not normal.

I run my hands through my hair, shakily attempting to ease the panic away and calm myself down. I think of meditating, but the dream strikes a deep chord of fear through me—I'll be forgotten. I'll disappear.

 _I'll stop existing._

I stumble out of bed, intending to go to the bathroom and splash some water on my face, maybe step outside for fresh air—but instead I find myself at my brother's door, my hand hovering over the handle.

 _Don't do this,_ I repeat to myself, my hands shaking. I don't grasp the handle. I'm frozen. _Don't bother Genma. We're going to spar tomorrow. He'll judge you, he's going to think you're a baby—you're eleven now. You can't cry._

 _Eleven. Twenty nine._

I hiccup, clasping my hand over my mouth immediately to stifle the sound, but I know it's too late. Genma, like most senior ninja, is a light sleeper; if he wasn't already awake, I know he is now.

 _Don't come out. Please don't come out._

The door remains closed. I swallow thickly, my body trembling as the dream comes back to me. White, white, so much white so much walking, so much _nothingness. There's nothing left. I will be forgotten—_

 _X is equal to negative b, plus or minus the square root of b squared minus 4ac, over 2a … ax squared plus bx plus c equals zero. A squared plus b squared equals c squared. Area of a circle is pi r squared, circumference of a circle is two pi r, volume …_

I collapse on the ground beside Genma's door, reciting the simplest formulas first while gradually making my way up into the more difficult ones—by the time I've calmed down I've reached the trigonometry formulas.

I look up at Genma's door, then back down at my knees. It's still plenty dark out; I didn't look at the clock when I left my room, but it can't be later than two.

I have to have been sitting here for at least thirty minutes. Genma hasn't come out, but I'm still positive he's awake; either waiting for me to come in, or waiting for me to go back to bed.

I draw my knees to my chest and hide my face in them.

Without the formulas to distract myself with the panic returns, and I begin to go for physics formulas.

It doesn't help this time.

My usual repetitions don't work like they should—like they were just minutes before. My panic grows, and suddenly I'm stumbling to my feet and shoving my way through the door to my brother's room. His back is facing me, and I all but collapse beside him on the bed, draping myself across his side.

He murmurs something to himself, and his lack of reaction confirms my suspicions that he's been awake the entire time.

"What's wrong?" he asks softly, turning so he can lay on his back. I move to allow him to, and then quickly crawl under his covers and hide myself in his side. "Bad dream again?"

I swallow thickly, my movements jerky. I grasp for his hand, wanting—no, _needing_ to feel something real, something to remind me I'm _here and I'm not disappearing, the white world is gone, I won't go back, I won't I can't I_ _ **can't.**_

My lack of response simply causes Genma to sigh again, rolling on his side so he's facing me, and I wrap my arm around him and hide my face in his chest. He strokes my hair softly, saying nothing—because by now, he's used to this; used to dealing with my nightmares. Although it's been months since one affected me badly enough to need to retreat to his room.

The last one had been on my birthday.

It wasn't of the white world, but rather—of _their_ birthday. It was normal, lackluster, and nothing to be afraid of; yet, for some reason, it sent me into a panic attack.

Months. Months of strength, all for it to crumble away when that _place returned to me._ All because of a stupid genjutsu, because Madoka-sensei.

I feel tears pulling at my eyes and I squeeze them shut as tightly as I can. It'd been so vivid and so real when I saw it. Too much for me to handle; because seeing it in my dreams is one thing … seeing it in real life, where I should be _safe_ is a whole different matter.

"I—" I trail off, unsure where to go with that. My voice is weak. "… I'm scared …"

Genma hums softly, attempting to soothe my nerves and calm my shaking. My nails are grasping desperately at his bare back—he doesn't sleep with a shirt, which makes it really, _really hard_ when I need something to hold onto and grip. The tune is something I remember our mother humming when I was a baby.

Slowly, eventually, it manages to ease my shaking, and although my throat is still tight with panic the fact that my hands are no longer grasping is a relief. I let them simply rest against his back, holding Genma close. He's real. I'm real.

We're real.

I pinch his skin. "What was that for?" he asks lightly, no anger in his voice.

"We're … we're real," I reply back, my voice weak and watery from tears. I dig my nails into the skin of my shoulder. "This … we're here. I'm not gone. I'm here. I'm alive, I'm—"

Genma hushes my rambling and I swallow thickly, blinking rapidly. "Calm down, Nagisa," he mumbles softly. "You're right. We're both here, and we're both alive; in Konoha, in our apartment—do you remember the number?"

I choke back a laugh at the familiar question. "104," I recite.

"Do you remember the number of weapons in my weapon pouch?" he continues, his voice unwavering. "Senbon, kunai, and shuriken."

"Seven kunai," I begin, "twelve shuriken … e-eighteen senbon." My voice trembles. Of course I'd still remember; I remember everything he tells me.

All the tests.

All the times he's checked if I really could remember, to see if I was playing around or serious—

"That's right," he replies. "You remember. You're alive, and you remember. You aren't gone."

I hiccup, hugging him closer to me, and Genma continues to pet my hair softly, resuming humming mom's tune while I try to even out my breathing. "Have you meditated?" he asks, after a solid minute of just humming to fill the room. "To calm down?"

I shudder. "I can't."

He waits for me to continue, and I do so reluctantly. "I … I'm gonna forget. It's—I'm scared, Genma. I don't want to forget."

"Remember when you first started?" He questions. I nod. "You feared the same thing then—but you worked past it. What's changed?"

I shake my head. If I bring up the genjutsu, then it'll just seem like I'm complaining; I begged to become a ninja, to start early … I knew that, eventually, I'd have to face this fear. Face the white world.

I knew it, but that doesn't mean I ever wanted to.

Genma sighs softly, tucking my head beneath his chin, before he pats my shoulder and says, "Why don't we get up?"

"… It's only two in the morning," I reply. "What will we do?"

Genma sits up, and I follow suit. "Let's make some tea," he suggests. He flicks the lamp on, the dull thing lighting up the room, and I wince slightly. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust, and Genma pulls on a shirt before motioning for me to follow him out of his room. Reluctantly, I slip out of his bed and follow.

He fills up and starts the electric kettle before taking a seat at the table. I sit across from him, letting my eyes drift to the surface of the table.

"Being out of anbu isn't so bad," he begins, after a few seconds of silence. "Sure, I'm a jonin still … so there are still classified missions to go on. But it's nice to not have to hide everything I do."

I nod silently. He continues talking, just to fill the silence. "There was that C-rank I went on with a group of genin and their sensei. Remember that?"

Slowly, I nod. "You … you were complaining that two jonin on a C-rank was too much. Especially for a simple merchant escort."

"Right," Genma agrees. "It didn't end up evolving into anything … but it was a nice break."

I pull my feet up onto the chair, wrapping my arms around my knees and leaning back. "… Takumi fell into the river during our last D-rank," I say softly. "The one we did today."

Genma huffs out a laugh. "How'd that end up?"

"He looked like a wet cat," I admit, unable to stop a small smile from crawling to my lips. "He was so angry. It was funny."

We make small talk like that until the chime goes off on the kettle, and Genma gets up to get the tea leaves—a few minutes later a cup of tea is set in front of me, the steam rising and warming my face, and I let my eyes slip shut.

 _Sohcahtoa,_ I think to myself, my mind drifting back to the formulas from earlier. _Sin is opposite over hypotenuse. Cosine is adjacent over hypotenuse. Tangent is opposite over adjacent._

"How is training going with your team?"

The question snaps me from my thoughts, and I take a sip of tea to stall, despite the fact that the tea is still scalding hot—it burns my mouth and throat, but I force myself to swallow it anyways.

I shift so that I'm sitting on my knees. "It's … fine," I mumble, the topic beginning to get closer to the truth than I'm comfortable. "We're working on stuff."

"Takumi said you guys did genjutsu practice today," he says idly, and I practically choke on the sip of tea I have in my mouth.

"When did you talk to Takumi?" I ask hastily, panic beginning to creep back upon me. He wouldn't have said anything, right? I asked—no, _begged them_ to keep my reaction quiet. He wouldn't betray me … he wouldn't, right?

"I ran into him while returning from the Hokage's office," Genma replies, letting his tea cool down a bit more. "I asked him how he was enjoying being on a genin team."

"What … what did he say?"

Genma's eyes lock on my face for a second and I immediately look down at my tea. "He just complained about how your sensei is making you guys work so much and how she made the three of you go under a genjutsu to learn it."

I swallow thickly. "That's it?"

"That's it," Genma confirms. "Was there something else?"

I wince. I trapped myself with my response—the panic was too evident. The question was too blunt; too suspicious.

"I …" I force another mouthful of tea down my throat, ignoring how it burns my mouth and throat. "No, there wasn't anything else."

It hurts to lie to him, but I can't let him know how weak I am—how a single genjutsu reduced me into a ball of nothingness, how I retreated into old routines like I was a child again.

Genma sighs. "Nagisa," he begins, his voice a bit more firm, "what's going on?"

"Nothing."

"It's not nothing," he replies back. "If it were nothing, you wouldn't be so tight-lipped about it."

I wince.

"I won't push you to tell me—but we're siblings, Nagisa. We're here for each other," he reminds me softly. "You came to me for comfort. Why won't you let me know why you needed it?"

I screw my eyes shut, digging my nails into the palm of my hands. "It's—it's stupid," I choke out, struggling to breathe through the panic, through the memories. White, walking, counting—how many steps am I at now? Fifty thousand? A hundred thousand? Six hundred thousand?

Too many. Too many, I'll forget if I keep going I'm going to _forget._

"My dream … as a little kid. About—about walking, and disappearing, and forgetting everything; Madoka-sensei used a genjutsu today." I drag my nails against the bare skin of my thighs as I talk. _Cosecant is hypotenuse over opposite or 1 over sin; Secant is hypotenuse over adjacent or 1 over cosine. Cotangent is adjacent over opposite or 1 over tangent._ "The _narakumi no jutsu_ … I think."

"It showed the world," my voice is barely above a whisper. The fear is tangible; I dig my nails into my thighs to keep from bolting out of the room and back to Genma's—mine isn't safe right now. Mine will cause nightmares. "And I couldn't escape."

Listening to my words, I realize how pathetic they sound; to be scared witless by something as silly as a white world. No one will ever understand why I fear it so much, why it's so significant, so terrifying—and I can never explain it to them.

It'll always seem silly. Like a childish fear.

I hate it.

"You know how to dispel a genjutsu," Genma points out. "You didn't notice when the world became white?"

I shake my head. 'I … it just … slowly, everything faded. And I panicked." _And began to recite,_ I add mentally. The memory sends a shudder down my spine. "I think Madoka-sensei canceled the jutsu, but … but it was already done. I saw it again."

"Again?"

I wince. Bad word choice—"Like—L-Like as a kid," I reply, my voice shaking. "I felt helpless … I felt lost. I don't like that. I _hate it."_

"I understand," Genma soothes. "Why don't you drink some more tea? It's probably cooled down by now."

I chug it down. Genma watches silently, an unreadable expression on his face. I barely glance at him before returning my gaze to my lap. There are red streaks across my pale skin from where I dragged my nails across it.

"The genjutsu that your sensei used brings forth the person's worst fears," he replies. "It's a D-rank genjutsu, and due to the simplicity of it it's often taught to genin who have graduated the academy."

I listen silently as Genma rattles off information about the jutsu, about what it's used for—interrogation is one, but more often than not, it's used as a distraction; a way to get away from a pursuing target.

That's why Madoka-sensei was teaching us in the first place. In case we got stuck in a situation where our lives were at risk and our survival unlikely, we would cast the jutsu to buy us some time to escape. An experienced ninja would realize it right away—but even a second or two is better than nothing.

"You know that it's not real," Genma finally says, after he's finished explaining. "You have the added advantage that your worst fear will take away the surrounding area … it will allow you to realize, immediately, that a genjutsu is in place, and allow you to dispel it."

I shake my head. "But—when I see it, in my dreams, or in a genjutsu, or … or even think about it, I get paralyzed. I can't _move."_ Suddenly, I wish I hadn't chugged my tea; I could use a distraction right now. "It's … like I forget everything else, and I'm just there."

"You will get through it," my brother says evenly. "It's scary to confront your worst fears; but that doesn't mean it's impossible."

"What if it is for me? What do I do then?"

Genma smiles wryly, finishing his own tea. "You hope that someone stumbles upon you and breaks you out of it."

I scowl. Genma gets up, placing his hands on my shoulders firmly. "Look at me, Nagisa." Reluctantly I look up. "Have more faith in yourself—you know it isn't real. Don't let this be your downfall. You are better than that."

I look away, and Genma ruffles my hair before releasing my shoulders, taking both our cups to the sink and washing them out. He places them in the drying rack. "Do you think you'll be able to fall back asleep?"

I hesitate. Then, "Yeah." After a moment's pause, I ask, reluctantly, "Can I … can I stay with you, though?"

"Of course you can. Let's get to bed, yeah? We're still going to spar tomorrow, and I won't take it easy on you because you're tired, kid."

I don't have the energy or willpower to respond back to his taunt, so instead I simply follow him back to his room, crawling under his covers and curling up in his side when he gets into the bed.

Sleep doesn't come easily but when it does, I don't dream.

* * *

As strange as it may sound, I can't help but feel slightly intimidated standing across from my brother on the training field.

We're comrades; we're family. But the last time I sparred with him, I was still an academy student—now, I'm a ninja. At least legally, I'm not a child anymore … I'm not "helpless" anymore.

I have a feeling this spar will be a lot different from the last one.

My weapon pouch feels heavier all of a sudden, and I find myself fiddling with the pouch. My eyes lock on the senbon in Genma's mouth, and for some reason the image of it slamming through my eye gets locked into my brain.

It makes me wince.

When Genma calls for us to begin I run at him, kunai already in hand. I toss it towards him and he catches it between his finger, flinging it right back at me and forcing me to dodge to the side to avoid being hit. His form blurs and suddenly he's in front of me, his fist already driving into my gut, and I barely manage to pull a kawarimi in time. I stumble, suddenly behind him, and he turns before I have the chance to do anything.

I run at him, punching towards his side—because I'm too short to reach his face—and he catches it my wrist, using the chance to actually punch me in the stomach. I wheeze, lurching forward, and Genma sweeps my feet out from under me.

I land hard but recovery quickly, using another kawarimi to gain some more distance from him. My stomach aches from the hit, but I know he could've gone a lot harder—thank god he's not using his full strength.

Granted, it'd be a bit unfair if he was. I'd have no chance in hell of even hitting him and I'd probably be out with a single attack.

We meet halfway and I lash out a kick in his direction. He catches my leg, intending to throw me off balance—so I bend back and set my hands on the ground and _twist,_ using the new angle to manage a kick to his stomach with my free leg. I'm surprised it works.

He releases me and I twist again, getting to my feet quickly and removing three shuriken. I throw them towards him, not really expecting them to hit the target; he uses one of the logs nearby for his kawarimi.

He deflects all the punches and kicks I throw at him, not bothering to attack this time around—he ducks beneath one kick and I jump back to avoid having my feet swept out from under me again. More blocking; he backflips away once, and when he approaches I know for a fact he's done being defensive.

I block his kick, ducking low and kicking up—he dodges away easily, and when I punch again he catches me and throws me again; I land on my hands, quickly righting myself, and I pant from exertion. Sparring with Genma is a lot harder than sparring with Takumi or Souta. It's a lot harder than it was in the academy, too.

I'll admit—sparring with Genma while being a student helped me improve leaps and bounds. But it doesn't mean I'm even close to being at the level where I can fight him as an equal.

Suddenly he's right behind me and I jerk, but before I can make the handsigns for a kawarimi he's already lightly chopped the back of my neck; hard enough to make me wince, but not to actually hurt me. "You know better than to space out like that during battle," he scolds, but I can hear the grin in his voice. "Never let an enemy sneak up on you."

I twist quickly and punch towards his stomach; he easily blocks it. "You didn't—sneak up on me," I reply, between my panting, "you used—the transportation jutsu thing."

"Shunshin," he corrects and—yup, he's grinning. And not even breathing heavily. "Regardless, you spaced out."

He lets my fist fall and makes no further movement, so I kneel over so that my hands are resting on my thighs, breathing heavily. "Brother," I whine, "you're too strong."

He laughs at that. "There are plenty of people much stronger than me, kid."

"I know," I reply, sighing. I wipe the back of my hand against my cheek, wiping away the sweat. My forehead feels sweaty from underneath the headband. "But it doesn't change that you're a lot stronger than I am."

"Seniority," he reminds me. I shrug. "Ready to stop?"

I nod. "I'm sore," I admit, with a slightly laugh. "You punch hard, Genma."

"Hm? I was holding back, though." I go about collecting the kunai and shuriken I'd thrown during the match. "I was going at about chunin-level strength."

My eyes widen. "That's it? I would've been completely screwed if you didn't hold back."

"You're a fresh genin," he reminds me. "While I'm a retired anbu, turned jonin."

I shrug. "I guess … I bet your stats are super high, right?"

"You mean the scores?" I nod, and he sighs. "You know, those aren't what you should base yourself off of. The standards are created with the average ninja in mind; chunin, in this case."

I shrug again. "So genin get lower scores, because they don't meet up with the chunin 'average' and jonin get higher scores because they surpass the chunin 'average', right?"

"Right," he agrees. "Not to mention there's a range of scores for each rank. So don't let yourself get obsessed over the number."

"I guess …" I rub my stomach again. It's still slightly sore. "How did I do? Did I do OK?"

Although I try to mask my worry, I know that some of it comes out. I don't want to seem like a failure to Genma—I don't want him to think that my taijutsu is awful. That I don't deserve the score that I got in the academy.

"For a fresh genin, you did exceptionally well," he responds. "There were a lot of things you did wrong, of course, but that's for your sensei to fix."

I nod. "She's already been helping us with taijutsu—I've gotten a bit better since graduating, right?"

Genma smiles, his senbon quirking up with the motion. "Right."

I grin as well. "Let's go grab something to eat," Genma suggests. "I promise no one will crash in this time."

I stick my tongue out in response. The last time we went out to eat, Genma's friends saw him and immediately swarmed around—so rather than just eating with my brother, I got to eat with my brother, Gai, Asuma, and Kurenai. Raido popped in at some point too, but he was gone after a bit.

I've met, and interacted with his friends enough times to know who they are, but that's about the extent I've gone to. They're his friends, not mine; not to mention the age difference. Kurenai, being one of the only female friends he has, has been the most friendly. There was even a point where I thought the two of them were dating—she was coming over daily, eating with us, and then leaving afterwards.

But it stopped after about two months, leaving me confused about the whole situation. When I asked Genma about it he'd simply told me not to worry about it.

"Where do you wanna go?" I ask. "Hajime's?"

"Why not barbeque?" He suggests, and I blink. "Chouza-sensei's been offering a discount to me for awhile."

I cross my arms over my chest. "But I'm a waste to bring to barbeque."

Genma pats my head. "But you enjoy it."

"… Yes," I reluctantly reply, "but it's still a waste."

"There's no need to worry about it," my brother simply says. "Unless you have another place in mind?"

I shake my head and, with that, we make our way from the training field, heading back towards the heart of Konoha.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry this is late. I had a lot of trouble with this chapter and personal life is just … a mess.**

 **I actually have everyone's stats (that is, the kind you'd see in the data book) written down; I've tweaked Genma's official ones to make him stronger, for the sake of this story. It'll be addressed more in a future chapter but, if anyone's curious, I upped Genma's scores to bring him from 27 to 30.5. This is because, in this story, rather than him being a special/tokubetsu jonin, he's instead a regular jonin. Hope this doesn't irritate anyone. If anyone is curious about exactly what's been changed, I can put it in the next chapter's author note.**

 **As for the fight, well … I'm awful at writing fight scenes. Nagisa's entire taijutsu style revolves around being flexible and small; she's not very strong at all. I hope the fight seemed realistic for the situation. Genma obviously wasn't going too hard on her; just enough to be a challenge.**

 **Opinions? Thoughts? Let me know in a review! This is the first time I've included an alternate POV in this story, so I hope it didn't seem too out of place for anyone. I've considered whether or not I should do it more often. Let me know what you think about it.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	10. Genin: Chapter 9

**Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto**

 **Mm …** **I really don't like this chapter. Hopefully you guys feel differently about it than I do.**

* * *

To say I'm apprehensive about seeing Madoka-sensei is an understatement. For the first time since we've been a team, I'm late to the pre-session with Souta and Takumi—both of them look up in surprise when I arrive, nearly forty five minutes late.

"Hey—you're late!" Takumi calls out, his arms crossed over his chest. "What kept you?"

I shrug. "Couldn't find my key."

"Huh? No way." He huffs. "The real reason is 'cuz of Madoka-sensei, right?"

I don't respond. He sighs, looking over at Souta. He hasn't said anything, but his emotions are clearly plastered across his face; he's concerned.

I sigh, slightly frustrated at them. "No," I lie. "I just really couldn't find my keys. Genma left early today, and then I woke up late—it's just been a lot."

"If you're sure …" Takumi lets the topic go thankfully. "We weren't really gonna do much anyways."

Souta nods. "I was thinking … rather than do spars, we should practice our stamina. Do laps, or something?"

"But that's the first thing we'll have to do when sensei gets here." Takumi sighs. "Since we're gonna have to work on the genjutsu today, we should just relax for now."

I let the two of them argue about it, staying to the sides this time. Either way, I could care less what we do; as long as it stays far, far away from the genjutsu.

 _So white. So much white._

I shiver.

The side of a hand hits my head and I smack it away, glaring at Takumi who's grinning. "What?" I reply. "Why'd you hit me?"

"What do you want to do? Laps, or play?"

I shrug. "Anything is fine, really."

"Aw, c'mon. You have to have a preference."

Souta shrugs. "Like I said, Takumi …. I don't mind if we play. It was just a suggestion, is all."

"Then let's play," I agree. If both of them want to do it, then there's no point in picking the other option. I'll be overruled either way. "What do you wanna do?"

Madoka-sensei finds us, an hour later, playing red hands—I barely manage to pull my hands out before Takumi slams his down, and he groans in frustration. We look up as sensei approaches, and I notice the amused look on her face.

"I see you three have been productive," she says, and the three of us flush in embarrassment. We get to our feet, taking our places in front of her, and her lips twitch into a small smile. "Start your stretches."

The first hour is the same as usual; sensei gives us a small break before we beginning spars. As usual, Takumi breaks off with sensei to practice—he's the worst out of the three of us at taijutsu—while Souta and I spar with each other.

I dodge to the side to avoid a punch, sending a couple towards Souta's head that he blocks. He kicks towards my head and I quickly jump to the side, using my hands to spring away from the attack, and I'm forced into a back handspring to get away from the sweeping kick he sends in response. He punches this time and I avoid it, only for his elbow to come back around and nearly hit me in the face.

I manage to raise my arms to block in time but it knocks me off guard and I quickly fall into another back handspring to gain some distance.

He approaches while I'm gathering my balance back and I go low, twisting my body and kicking up towards his face, and although Souta manages to dodge for the most part I do manage to hit the very edge of his chin.

He retreats a bit, rubbing the spot tenderly, and I keep the distance. We're both breathing fairly hard—unlike sparring with Genma, when I spar with Souta I actually have a decent chance of winning. Not to mention we've been at it for a good two minutes now.

I look over at Madoka-sensei and Takumi, checking on their progress, only to double over when Souta's foot plants itself in my stomach. He kicks hard enough for me to wheeze, and when he goes for another kick I force myself into another back handspring. I've had to do a lot of those this match.

I'm losing my advantage, and quickly—Souta's coming too quickly and I can't hit hard enough or fast enough to get around it, leaving me to retreat and dodge constantly.

Madoka-sensei said not to hurt each other other than bruises and cuts … so I decide to risk it. When he comes back in for a sweeping kick I jump, twisting my body, and swinging my leg towards his cheek. He blocks it, but I see his face scrunch up in pain, leaving an opening. I land in a crouch and throw my shoulder into his stomach, causing him to fall back hard. I take the chance to breathe, nearly bent over in exhaustion.

Souta's been getting more and more aggressive during our spars these days; back at the academy, he tended to be more cautious with his attacks. But ever since Madoka-sensei has been training us in taijutsu, he's become more daring.

It makes it significantly more difficult for me; I can't hit him nearly as hard as he can hit me, so most of the time when we spar I'm stuck retreating or evading attacks while occasionally managing to get in a few of my own. Usually it isn't this bad, though.

Getting too close to Souta while sparring is dangerous. Today, he seems particularly aggressive if his moves are anything to go by.

"We—let's take a break," Souta gasps, not bothering to get up from the ground. His chest rises and falls quickly as he pants, and I can see the sweat on his face. "Nagisa, you're too—too good at dodging."

I wave my hand at him, unable to talk at the moment. It takes a lot out of me to be constantly going into back handsprings and cartwheels to avoid being hit. That's not even including the actual hits that I land, the ones that I don't land …

All in all, I'm exhausted. And this is just the beginning.

We take a break, watching Madoka-sensei and Takumi work and, eventually, the two of them separate. Sensei takes note of the two of us and nods. "Take a short break; then, I'll have all three of you spar some more. Takumi and Souta, you'll be first."

I breathe out in relief. At least I don't have to go first. Madoka-sensei moves to my side and I eye her warily, taking a drink from my water bottle. She nods at me.

"Your flexibility is getting better," she notes. "The work we've been doing is paying off."

I nod. Madoka-sensei has been helping me even more with my flexibility; she figured out almost immediately that I'm not going to be a heavy hitter or really even be able to take many hits. Which lead to Madoka-sensei helping me become harder to hit. How to see weak points in the opponent's defenses, and how to take advantage of them.

Of course, she taught all of us this to an extent, but for Souta and Takumi, it wasn't as necessary considering they have the strength to hit and ability to take hits. They're more likely to break through the enemy's defenses rather than have to slip through them.

Before working with her, I could only perform rolls and cartwheels; the back handspring, jumping kicks, and flips were all from her help. Of course, it's pretty exhausting, but that's why she's been having us all do stamina exercises.

So much running. It makes the academy look like a joke.

Eventually, we finish our spars, Madoka-sensei gives her criticisms (both during and after the spar) and corrections—and then, we go to get our D-rank.

* * *

Genma was reading one of his novels when the sound of knocking filled the air. Three quick, sharp knocks before silence descended upon the room.

He couldn't think of anyone who would be visiting at this time of day; he'd paid the rent, utilities, and other bills already, and he didn't socialize with many of his neighbors enough for them to stop by.

To say he was shocked would be a bit of an overstatement when he opened the door and saw Yamanaka Madoka at the door, but there was at least a hint of surprise. Her team should be training at this time of day.

"Madoka-san," he greeted her, "it's been awhile." The last time he'd seen her was nearly three months ago, when she transferred out of the T&I department.

"It has," she replied, letting an easy smile come to her face. "Do you mind if I come in? I have some things to discuss with you."

Genma let her in without another word and she settled down at the kitchen table while he went about making tea.

For a brief period of time, Madoka had worked in the T&I department before her transfer out. She didn't tend to partake in the interrogations for the most part, much like Genma, but instead worked on lowering the defenses of the prisoners.

Ibiki, Anko, and many others did the physical, actual interrogation. Madoka patched them up afterwards and lowered their defenses; she made them trust her.

She offered them a brief and small amount of kindness between the pain and torture. She knew how to manipulate people … Genma had, to an extent, come to know her during that short year period. And on the rare occasion she had participated in an interrogation, her method had been pure manipulation. No threats, no physical harm; just … trickery.

He knew this wasn't a colloquial visit; he'd have to watch his words around her. At least he knew how she operated.

"What brings you here?" he asked, purely out of courtesy. If Madoka was visiting, during a time when Nagisa would be out of the house, it had to be about his sister.

He resisted the urge to sigh, his thoughts flicking back to Tuesday night. This wasn't going to be a friendly meeting at all.

Genma set down the cup in front of her; she offered a thank you in response, watching the steam rise before beginning.

"As you're likely aware, I've been assigned as Nagisa's jonin instructor." They locked eyes, and she continued with, "I have some questions to ask, if you'll allow me."

Genma took the seat across from her. It was definitely related to the genjutsu. He kept his face blank. "Feel free."

"As of recent, I've began teaching her and her teammates the _narakumi no jutsu."_ Again, Genma tried not to sigh. "The reaction she exhibited has raised several questions."

"She briefly mentioned it a few nights ago."

"As a child, how would you describe her behavior?" Madoka questioned. "Did it line up with other children her age?"

Genma hummed to himself, crossing his arms over his chest. She was searching for something specific, he could already tell. He thought back to Nagisa's academy years—and a lot of things stood out as unusual.

He'd noted them at the time. Some of them were worrisome enough that he'd been forced to report it to the Hokage, as bad as it made him feel. If Nagisa ever found out, Genma knew she wouldn't forgive him.

His sister was a private person. Getting her to open up could be like trying to pry information from an amnesiac. Nearly impossible.

"To an extent," he finally answered, making sure to word his sentence carefully. "There are parts that have worried me."

"She is … a perfectionist." Madoka nodded. "To an unhealthy extent."

He didn't elaborate; he didn't need to. Anyone who looked twice at Nagisa would notice that about his sister, and if Madoka was anything like the woman he remembered her being he was sure she'd noticed this near immediately.

The fact that she didn't press the topic proved he was right. "How are her sleeping habits?" She questioned, an edge of concern in her voice. "Does she suffer from nightmares at all?"

Genma frowned, but immediately straightened his expression out again. She was definitely searching for something. The question was— _what._

Genma may have worked off and on in T&I, but there was a reason he wasn't permanently stationed there. He worked far better as an assassin than an interrogator. Against someone like Madoka, who had been likely raised from infancy to read people and draw information forward, there was little he could do in response.

He just had to be careful.

"Yes." Genma crossed his arms over his chest. "She's suffered from them since she was a toddler."

Madoka nodded, taking a sip from the tea. "Has she ever shared the contents of her dreams with you?"

Genma frowned. So that's what she was looking for. "Isn't that a bit personal, Madoka-san?"

Madoka shook her head. "I believe," she started, leaning forward to lace her hands together and rest her chin on top of them, "that her dreams may, eventually, impair her functioning as a shinobi. Did she share her response to the genjutsu?"

"No."

Madoka took a sip of tea, and Genma said nothing. "Usually, when a genjutsu is cast, the caster sees a ghost of the illusion," she told him, letting her hands wrap around the cup. "When I cast the genjutsu on Nagisa, there was no ghost."

Madoka continued with, "Within ten seconds, she was screaming. Then she repressed her chakra to the point where I couldn't even sense it—and finally, she shut us all out. It took a solid minute to pull her from the state."

He grimaced.

"She wanted to be small so she wouldn't be found."

"What are you implying?" His voice was hard. He'd seen that reaction from his sister multiple times—maybe not to that extreme, but close enough to it that it sickened him to even hear about it. He hated it.

But, considering what Nagisa said she saw in the genjutsu, it didn't surprise him as much as it should've. The reaction lined up particularly well with her first attempt at meditation, down to the fear and everything.

That didn't mean he had to like it.

"There is some form of trauma within that girl." Genma went silent. "Genin—no, _children_ do not shut down like that for no reason. Has anything happened in the past that I should be aware of?"

Initially, he wanted to say no. That was the first thing that came to mind—no, there was nothing to be aware of.

But in truth, there were a lot of things about Nagisa that didn't add up. Trauma … Nagisa couldn't be traumatized. There was nothing to be traumatized over.

… Right?

The only fears she'd ever shared with him were of being forgotten and a dream she had many, many years ago. A lot of pieces didn't add up, considering her behavior and how strongly she was affected by something so small—her frequent nightmares were rarely discussed by the two of them, because Genma never pushed it. He wasn't one to cause conflict, and Nagisa wouldn't talk about it either way unless she felt like it.

So he sighed and, after a long silence, ran his hand through his uncovered hair. "Honestly, I'm not too sure."

Madoka inclined her head and he continued with, "Nagisa has suffered from nightmares from a young age, and at times she's been inconsolable after waking up."

Memories of her eleventh birthday flashed through his mind—the way she'd _screamed,_ scaring him half to death and sending him careening into her room, only to find her shaking and sobbing on her bed, hand knotted into her hair.

She'd asked if she was bad—bad for wanting to hurt others. For wanting to protect herself.

It unnerved him, but they never talked about it because, again; Genma didn't want to push her away. He had his suspicions but never acted upon them. He regretted it now, but it was too late for anything to be done.

"How young?" Madoka asked, and Genma sighed.

How young, indeed … "Truthfully, I'm not sure. She slept in my bed a lot when she was small; she's always been a bit … clingy." He posed the word carefully. It felt strange to describe his sister as clingy but it was the truth. "I'd say … after her sixth birthday was when I saw her nightmares affect her, at least."

"In what way?" Madoka questioned.

"She slept later, woke up earlier—woke up in the middle of the night a lot," he informed her. "For a period of about four months, she spent nearly every other night sleeping with me after waking up in the middle of the night. It became less frequent after that."

It'd worried him to see his sister breaking down night after night—at one point, he considered bringing her to a Yamanaka just to make sure she was actually alright. But they died down in frequency, leaving him unsure—he never followed through with that action.

Madoka frowned. "What was different about these times and the times when she was small?"

Genma replied dryly, "Well, she wasn't crying for one thing." He was getting tired of this line of questioning.

"Does she still sleep with you?"

"Occasionally, yes. But it's much rarer, these days." His eyes met hers, and although he kept his voice even there was still a trace of an accusatory tone in his voice. "The night after you showed her the genjutsu was the first time in months."

She sighed softly. "Did she tell you about the dream?"

"No." Genma didn't care that he was lying—he wouldn't throw Nagisa to the wolves; this was crossing into territory he didn't want to touch and he didn't like it one bit.

"Can you think of a time in her life when something may have changed?" Madoka asked. "A time that may have triggered these dreams?"

" … After the Kyuubi attack ten years ago, Nagisa spent a week in an orphanage. For the four years after that, I was a part of Anbu—various babysitters came to watch her until, eventually, she grew old enough to stay by herself," Genma shared.

"Genin teams?" Madoka guessed. "Or adults?"

"While young, genin. When she got a bit older, the neighbor would come at various times to check in on her. By that time, I was mainly taking short-term missions."

Madoka sighed again and Genma watched her set down the near-empty tea cup. "How well does she get along with your neighbors? Does she spend an exorbitant amount of time around anyone in particular?"

Genma's gaze sharpened. He was right, then. His shoulders were tense and he felt frustration beginning to bubble forth—Madoka was narrowing it down far too much. Still, he answered her question with, "No. She avoids everyone for the most part."

Madoka nodded. "If I may ask—the neighbor who checked in on her. Was it a female?"

The jonin nodded. "Our next door neighbor. She's unmarried."

Ayumi-san was a good person; he trusted her quite a bit. Nagisa had never expressed any dislike towards the woman, either; which made this whole situation much for frustrating for the jonin.

"At approximately what age did she stop checking in on Nagisa?" Madoka asked. "She seems quite independent; it must've been at a young age."

"Madoka-san," he finally snapped, "why don't we just get to the point? I know what you're implying—you don't need to skirt around the topic."

Madoka said nothing for a moment. Then, without any hesitance, she met his gaze head on and said, "Is there any chance Nagisa may have been molested?"

Genma's jaw clenched. His hands curled into fists and he had to reel in his anger. He wanted to reject the possibility; refuse that it could've happened. He wouldn't _let it happen._ But he couldn't because, truth be told, there _was_ a possibility.

And he hated that.

Madoka pressed harder. "You claim her nightmares began, or at least began to affect her, at age six. Is this around the time that you switched from genin to neighbors?"

"No," he responded coldly. "The switch was when she began at the academy. The timelines don't line up."

Around her birthday, she'd been taking care of herself. Sure, she was sick when Genma came back, but—

She'd been unusually emotional. Her nightmares became worse.

Genma hissed out a breath. No. No, he wasn't—couldn't consider that possibility. She would've told him; she had to have.

Madoka pressed her lips together. "What happened, leading up to her birthday? Any changes in routine, in neighbors?" She asked. "Anything that could've triggered it."

He was reluctant to respond. "I went on a mission. It lasted four days; I missed her birthday, and when I returned she was sick with a fever and unusually emotional."

Madoka blinked, took a moment, then breathed out heavily and finished the bit of tea remaining in her cup. "And what age did the neighbor stop checking in on her?"

"… Right before her sixth birthday. Around New Year's, to be exact."

Madoka sighed for real, this time, and Genma had to steel his nerves for her next words. "I believe," she began, her voice even, "I've figured out when it may have happened."

Genma dragged a hand through his hair, his expression twisted into a strange mix of anger and horror. "While I was on the mission."

"It's not unusual," she began to explain, "she was alone, sick, and it was her birthday. It would've been easy for someone to take advantage of that."

"Listen," Genma began, his tone dangerously thin. "It wasn't—no. It couldn't have been Ayumi-san." He spoke the words quickly, but he was using them as a distraction. He knew that wasn't what Madoka had been hinting at, but he was _stalling_. "She stopped checking in on Nagisa after the New Year."

"I am not implying it was her," Madoka said gently. "Likely, it was a stranger." Genma got up from his chair, taking Madoka's empty cup and his full one over to the sink to clean them out.

"I know it's a hard thing to accept, but you must consider the possibility. Nagisa has been traumatized in some way and that trauma causes her to shut down and hide. She comes to you after nightmares—you are her protector. She feels safe around you." Genma said nothing, going through the motion of washing out the cups—and repeating it a second, third, fourth time. "More than likely, she has been molested, at some point in time. Likely around, or during, her sixth birthday, while you were gone."

The cups were more than clean by now but Genma didn't stop washing them—his mind was too chaotic for him to stop.

Nagisa wouldn't have hid this from him … right? She trusted him too much—sure, Genma knew that his sister had her own secrets. But that didn't mean …

No. No, _no._

He wanted to smash the cup. Instead, he shut off the tap and began to dry the cups. No; Madoka had to be wrong. Because Nagisa told him what she saw in that genjutsu and he hadn't seen any ounce of deceit in her words or expression.

Nagisa hadn't lied about what her worst fear was. But he couldn't say anything about that to Madoka without admitting that he, too, had lied.

Not to mention, Madoka was practically sure of her theory, and there was little Genma could do to convince her otherwise. Nagisa rarely shared her dreams with him and on the rare occasion she did it tended to be the same thing.

A white world where she was forgotten about.

Finally, he spoke. "I don't know what you expect me to say. This isn't something I ever wanted to consider."

"No brother will ever want to consider the fact that their little sister has been abused." Madoka's words were blunt. Genma had to consciously relax his jaw. "I cannot speak in certainty; it is, at the moment, exactly that. A possibility."

Genma placed the cups in the drying rack before finally turning to face her. His face was set into a carefully crafted neutral expression, but he could feel the anger, denial, _everything_ bubbling beneath the surface.

"What do you want me to do?"

Madoka smiled slightly, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Nothing. I can tell that Nagisa does not trust easily. You will only push her away by prying."

"You can't just expect me to do nothing." His expression didn't change, but the anger was slowly, steadily seeping into his voice. "You had a reason for coming here."

Madoka leaned her chin into her palm. "I expect exactly that. Treat her as you normally would; this is, after all, just a possibility."

"I will be looking more into it, Genma." The woman's voice softened slightly, but it did little to soothe his nerves. "I have dealt with these situations before; they need to be approached slowly and delicately. Changing how you act around Nagisa will only raise suspicion."

It took a long moment before Genma reluctantly agreed with a sigh. "If you're wrong about this, it'll only scare her."

"… Yes." He noticed her hesitation, but said nothing. "At some point in time it _must_ be addressed. You are aware of what her team is expected to become." It wasn't a question. Genma said nothing, and she continued on. "I cannot risk something triggering a response that will shut her down. It will get her, and her team, killed."

"So what's your plan, then?" He asked, leaning back onto the counter. "Will you keep them doing D-ranks until you've figured it out?"

Madoka's lips quirked into a smile. "Quite the contrary."

She didn't elaborate and Genma didn't pry. "This visit has given me insight I desperately needed," she began, getting up from her seat. "Thank you for your time, Genma-san."

Genma grimaced. "This isn't the best way to catch up."

"So I'm aware." He lead her to the door. "Remember what I said; do not treat Nagisa any differently. It's imperative that you keep these suspicions to yourself."

Genma nodded. Despite how disturbing the thought was, Genma wouldn't let Nagisa know; it would risk their relationship. Sabotage her own wellbeing, and he wouldn't do that to her. This wouldn't be the first time he'd hidden information from her for her own sake, and Genma was sure it wouldn't be the last. "Just—do your job well," he said, after a moment's pause. "Train them properly."

"I will," she promised. "I don't think I need to remind you to keep our conversation a secret." She paused, before nodding at him. "Good day, Genma-san."

Genma waited until she was away from the door before letting it shut, and only then did he let his neutral expression fall into something more emotional. His teeth grit together and his hand curled tightly around the doorknob.

He needed a distraction. If Nagisa returned home before he got one, he knew she'd suspect something was wrong, and Genma couldn't allow that.

So it was with that thought in mind that he departed from the apartment in search of Gai, his thoughts running a mile a minute.

He hoped more than anything else Madoka was wrong. There were too many things that didn't add up, things that he knew that Madoka didn't, but wouldn't dare mention them to the woman. It wasn't his place.

Genma desperately hoped she was wrong because, if she was correct, it only made the entire situation much more complicated.

* * *

Madoka-sensei returns an hour and fifteen minutes after she left. When Takumi prys for information on where she went, she simply smiles at him in that strange way she usually does.

Our mission is over by three, and after reporting to the mission desk we return to the training ground for the second half of training.

Genjutsu training.

All of our moods sour slightly at that announcement, but no one protests. Madoka-sensei won't let us out of it.

"The handsigns for the _narakumi no jutsu_ are snake and rat." She performs them as she lists them off. "All three of you have performed genjutsu before, so I do not expect to have to review how to cast one. However, casting this genjutsu will require more chakra than the E-ranks you were shown and taught in the academy, so keep that in mind."

We all nod. "Souta, Takumi—the two of you will work together, seeing how both of you were able to dispel the jutsu. Nagisa, you will work with me."

I grimace. Great.

My friends take a seat across from each other, simply doing the hand signs right now; neither of them have cast it yet. Madoka-sensei informs us that, although we may be able to cast the genjutsu after a few tries, it will likely be too weak to do anything. Genjutsu requires fine chakra control and a precise amount of chakra to be emitted.

Too much is just as bad as too little in this case.

"Are you going to cast it on me again?" I ask, when we're facing each other. I can't help the apprehension that seeps into my voice—if I have to experience the white world again, I don't know what I'll do. I can't do it.

Madoka-sensei shakes her head, and I sigh in relief. "As you are the one learning the genjutsu, you will be practicing it on me."

I practice the hand signs a few times, connecting them as smoothly as I can; it wouldn't be good to stumble while casting the genjutsu.

"Sensei, what's your fear?" I ask, though I'm not expecting an answer. I just … want to fill the silence. Although she's my teacher, Madoka-sensei unnerves me; the fact that she's a Yamanaka puts me on edge. I shouldn't have put myself under her scrutiny.

Madoka-sensei smiles slightly in amusement. "Isn't that a bit personal, Nagisa?"

I shrug. "Sorry … I just don't know what other people would fear."

"A person's worst fear is not meant to be shared," she responds simply. "Because it can, and will be used against them if that information falls into the wrong hands."

"I … guess." I form snake, then rat. Then I do it again, because despite the fact that there are only two hand signs for this genjutsu, doing it wrong could still lead to a disaster. "When do you want me to try casting it?"

"Whenever you are ready," she replies back. "Do not hesitate."

I hesitate. For a normal genjutsu, you would imagine what you show the person you're casting it on—then, you would perform the hand signs and cast the jutsu. But for something like this, where you don't have an exact image to give …

Would you simply imagine something horrible? Or would you project negative feelings into it?

" _Magen: Narakumi no jutsu,"_ I say, attempting to figure out how much chakra to put into it. Considering Madoka-sensei doesn't have to dispel anything and the fact that the ghost is missing, I can guess that I failed.

I can't help but feel angry at myself for that. Sure, genjutsu is one of, if not my weakest point—but I can't _fail_ at it. If I fail, then I'll become a disappointment. Genma will be ashamed of me, Madoka-sensei will see me as unteachable. Takumi and Souta will move on without me.

I grit my teeth and try again. Less chakra, this time.

I get the same result. The anger grows. More, then.

I struggle for the right balance, but seems that, no matter how much or how little chakra I put into it, nothing comes out. It's like—there's some kind of _block._ Even with the academy genjutsu, I never had this much trouble. I could always … at least get something from it.

"Nagisa," sensei begins, after yet another failure. "What about the genjutsu is causing you trouble?"

I let my hands fall to my side, looking over at my friends. Considering neither of them are looking overly uncomfortable or afraid, I'm guessing they've had about as much success as me; either that, or they've just not managed to cast it fully.

"I don't know," I begrudgingly admit. "I can't … I don't know. The chakra, I guess."

Madoka-sensei hums. "How much chakra to put into it?"

I shrug. "The amount isn't quite as important for something like this," she explains. "The _narakumi no jutsu_ will work even if you put a bit too much into it. What's important is being able to cast it in the first place."

"I can control my chakra fine," I reply back. "You've seen—I learned tree walking just fine. I just … it's not working. You're not getting anything, right?"

She shakes her head slowly and I clench my hands into fists. Why can't I just _get it already?_

"Perhaps," she begins, her voice taking a softer edge to it, "it has to do with what you saw?"

I stiffen. Madoka-sensei continues with, "You were scared by it, so it's natural that you would instinctively have an aversion to the jutsu."

"I'm fine," I snap, not wanting to breach the topic. "Really—it isn't that. It's just … something else. I don't know what."

White. White, doors, people forgetting—

 _I don't want to think about it._

I force myself to calm down, clenching and unclenching my hands a few times and clenching my jaw. Don't think about it. Madoka-sensei will know something is wrong and then I'll have to deal with her prying and trying to figure it and _I can't allow that to happen._

"Very well," sensei relents. "Let's figure out what that is, then."

When it's all done and over with, I'm no closer to casting the genjutsu than I was when we started. Takumi looks happy, so I'm guessing his results were better than mine, but Souta seems discouraged.

"I made it kinda work!" Takumi explains to Madoka-sensei when she has us regroup. "Souta said he saw the leaves blow past, but then I messed up and canceled it on accident."

Souta sighs. "It was scary," he admits. "I thought I'd have to break out like last time."

"It is good to hear you have gotten a grasp on it already, Takumi." She nods in approval. "Souta and Nagisa; there is no need to be discouraged. It will come with time. Tomorrow, Souta and Nagisa will switch places."

Souta seems to relax a bit at that, but I stiffen. If I so much as see the white, I'm screwed. I'll have to be ready to use _kai_ to dismiss it at any time-that is, if I even realize it's happening in time.

But I resign myself to that fate. If I protest, Madoka-sensei will only be more suspicious; I threw her off Tuesday, but I doubt I'll be able to do it again.

"We'll dismiss early today."

Genma's not set up for a mission for the next week, so I'm not surprised when I find him reading a book on the couch. I sit down next to him, glancing at the book's content.

"What are you reading?"

Genma hums. "Some romance novel Kurenai recommended me."

I scrunch my nose up at that. "I don't get how you can read that stuff," I tell him, grabbing his cup off the table and taking a drink from it. "It's all the same."

Genma takes the cup from me so he can take a drink before setting it back down. "Now _that_ is where you're wrong. This tale is about a woman who falls in love with a ramen shop owner, but due to being the child of a competing restaurant, their love is frowned upon; it's quite tragic."

I roll my eyes. Genma always reads such cheesy novels. "Does she kill herself in the end?"

My brother raises an eyebrow. "I'm only a third of the way through."

I lean back into the cushions. "I bet she kills herself. That's the kinda endings in all the books you read."

"Hey, a tragic love tale is perfectly acceptable reading material," Genma argues, his senbon flicking up a he talks. "At least I'm not like Kakashi."

I frown at that. I've only met Kakashi once; he ignored me and everyone else almost completely. He didn't have his trademark _Icha Icha Paradise_ book yet, but if my brother's comment is anything to go by I'm sure he has it now.

"Whatever you say, big brother." I nudge his side. "Can we eat curry udon tonight?"

Genma hums in thought. "Sure," he agrees. "Why not. You going to go out and get the things for it?"

I frown. "I think we have everything already, though."

"No mushrooms," he replies, eyes not leaving the book. He flips the page. "We ran out a few days ago."

"Eh …" I shrug. "I don't care."

I watch him for a moment longer, my eyes fixed on the book, and without hesitation I reach out and snatch it out of his hand before hauling myself over the edge of the couch and darting towards my room.

"Hey—!" I laugh at his yell, nearly tripping over the laundry basket in the hall, and I'm just at my door when a pair of arms wrap around my torso and rip me off the ground. I laugh again, holding the novel out in front of me—he can't get it like this. "You little brat."

I can hear the amusement in his voice and simply grin. "No more cheesy romance novels for you, Genma! I declare no more!"

He gasps dramatically. "But whatever will I do with the stockpile in my closet?"

"Burn them." I wave the book a bit and when Genma sets me back on my feet I keep it behind my back. "You don't need those dumb books."

He raises an eyebrow, still smiling in amusement. "What, would you prefer I get an actual girlfriend, then?"

I frown, my amusement evaporating at his words. "No," I repeat. "Who needs that? It's dumb."

Genma pats my head. "Oh, the woes of being young."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He pats my head again, shaking his head morosely. "The innocent youth. One day, you'll understand."

I hold the book back out for him to take, rolling my eyes at his dramatic response. "You don't _really_ want a girlfriend, right?"

The thought of sharing my brother with another person is distressing, but even more distressing is the thought of them _doing_ anything.

I shudder at the thought.

"Not at all," he says easily, taking the book back. "There are far better things in life than a romantic relationship."

I nod in agreement. Then frown. "Why do you read the novels then?"

"It's entertaining." I crack the door of my room open and Genma leans back against the wall across from it. "People do some dumb things when in love."

I shrug at that. I wouldn't know— _they_ never dated and never had interest and, by extension, neither do I. "Whatever you say, brother."

* * *

"You ready?" Takumi asks, his face serious. "I'm gonna try casting it now."

I fiddle with my hands, not meeting his eyes. "Just … get it over with, will you?"

He nods. " _Magen: Narakumi no jutsu,"_ he mumbles, and I shiver. The leaves blow past and I watch the ground, waiting for some white to peak through; after nearly ten seconds, it does-and I panic.

" _Kai!"_ I all but scream, flooding my brain with chakra and squeezing my eyes shut as tightly as I can. My breathing is heavy and I can feel myself shaking. I go through basic information before I dare open my eyes. Takumi looks back at me, his expression drawn in concern, and I grit my teeth.

How weak I must look, being dissolved into such a state by a stupid D-rank genjutsu. "My turn," I mumble, not giving him the time or chance to ask me anything. _"Magen: Narakumi no jutsu!"_

I grit my teeth when nothing happens. I try a second time, then a third—and by the fourth I'm ready to scream.

 _Why can't I just_ do _it?_

"What am I doing wrong? I ask Takumi, my voice thin. "Why can't I get it?"

He crosses his arms over his chest. "Uh … well, since Madoka-sensei said the chakra amount doesn't matter it can't be that …"

"How do you do it?" I ask. "What do you do exactly? What do you think?"

If I can copy Takumi's technique then I'll get it. It's been over a week now and even _Souta_ has gotten to the point where he can cast and hold it. I'm holding everyone back, I'm being stupid _why can't I do it!?_

"Um. Uh, well … I do the hand signs and I cast it. I just think of what I'm gonna do and what I want it to do. Things like that."

I scowl. That's no help at all. "Things like this aren't that bad—I dunno why you're havin' such a bad time with it," my friend admits. "You can't even get the leaves."

"No need to rub it in," I mutter. "I hate this."

I drop my head to my hands, gripping my hair tightly in anger. Anger towards myself, towards the jutsu, even towards Takumi and Souta for being able to do it.

Never before have I had this much trouble. Even meditation was easier.

"You're gonna get it eventually," Takumi says, patting my shoulder. "Just like you're gonna one day get tall enough to not look like an academy student."

I poke his side and he squeaks, jerking away suddenly. "I'm gonna get taller soon."

"Mmhm." He has a grin on his face. "One day, when you actually finish all your food."

I shove him this time and he laughs.

* * *

Friday afternoon, over two weeks after our first exposure to the jutsu, it all falls apart. Since Souta and Takumi have already figured out the genjutsu, the amount of time we spend practicing it has been decreased dramatically; I'm the only one who can't get it, after all. We've been doing our standard mock drills, practicing formations, having lessons from Madoka-sensei on chakra suppression and other things related to our specialty, but genjutsu has taken the back burner. It's been like that for the last week now; even the week before, we'd decreased the amount of time spent due to Takumi and Souta gaining a better grasp on the jutsu.

I'm both happy and mad about that. Happy, because it means I don't have to suffer through it as much but angry because it just reinforces how _stupid I am._

Madoka-sensei holds me back after training is done, and this time I know that I'm not going to escape so easily. I'm surprised it took her so long, honestly. Not that I'm complaining.

"I am aware that you believe your fear is not the source of the problem," she starts, and my stomach twists, "but it has come to seem that it is, in fact."

I look away. I don't have an argument for that; I've come to accept that, as much as I hate to. The white world; it means too much and holds too much significance for me to pretend it never happened.

"You fear casting the genjutsu, correct?" I take a moment to think before nodding. "Why is that?"

I shrug, not meeting her eyes. "Dunno."

Madoka-sensei sighs. "Nagisa," she begins, "I am your jonin instructor. I am here to teach and guide you."

"I'm just—I just can't do genjutsu," I mumble. "You probably saw. I got a 1 in genjutsu."

"A 1 does not mean you are incapable of doing it," she admonishes. "It simply means you must put more work in to improve your weaknesses."

I look away. "Tomorrow, we will be taking on our first C-rank. I've been pushing it off until the three of you gained a stronger grasp on the genjutsu, but it appears that I cannot do that any longer."

"I'm sorry," I mumble, my voice hollow. "I'm just holding everyone back. I'm sorry."

It's true—that's all I've been doing is holding back my team. If not for me, we could've gone on the mission earlier; if I could've just … gotten at least a little bit of a grasp on the jutsu, then I would've been worth something, but like this … I'm nothing.

Worthless to my team.

"There's no need for you to apologize." I grit my teeth at that. "We will continue to work on the genjutsu during the mission; you are not holding anyone back."

I scuff my foot against the ground, still refusing to look at my teacher. "I'll never be able to do it."

"Why do you say that?" Madoka-sensei asks calmly.

"Because—after more than two weeks, I can only get _leaves_ and nothing else _._ Sometimes I can hold it a little, but then I can't—and I'm never going to be able to because I'm too—"

 _Afraid._

I cut myself off before the word can come out, but it echoes in my head. I'm afraid; I'm afraid of casting the jutsu, because the jutsu is what has caused me so much pain recently. So many nightmares, so many bad thoughts.

"I'm too awful at genjutsu," I finish. I can't look at Madoka-sensei. She'll see through me, if she hasn't already; we're both aware of the real reason I can't do it.

It's weak, it's pathetic—just like me.

Sensei hums, crossing her arms. "Would you allow me to cast the genjutsu on you one more time?"

I look up at that, my eyes widening in fear. "What? Why?"

"You dismiss the genjutsu when Takumi and Souta cast it, correct?" I just nod. "So then, why don't you try dismissing it for me?"

I shake my head. "I—I don't want to," I say weakly. "I only barely dismiss it. I don't give it a chance to form fully."

"So then, do the same for me."

I say nothing, and Madoka-sensei steps forward, reaching out to touch my shoulder. I jerk back in response, and she removes it immediately. "I am not forcing you; I will not force you. It's just an option."

"You're my sensei," I whisper. "I don't have a choice. I have to listen to what you say."

Sensei says nothing. Finally, after a long silence, she tells me, "We will not, then."

I watch her face, trying to see any sign of deception in her expression, but it's neutral as always. It's frustrating—the fact that she can keep her composure so easily angers me. If I could just forget my fears, forget my emotions—everything would be alright.

I would be able to face this genjutsu and stop holding everyone back.

"OK," I reply. "Sorry, sensei."

She shakes her head. "There is no reason to be. We will attempt some other time. For now, relax; I haven't told Takumi and Souta yet that we'll be taking on a C-rank tomorrow, so please pretend I haven't shared the information with you."

I nod mutely. Then, "Can I go?"

"Yes, Nagisa. You may."

I retreat from the training field as fast as I can, already knowing that tonight I will not sleep well; and when I get home and find the apartment empty, with only a note from Genma saying that he was called in for a mission and he'd be gone for the next few days, I know even better that the night will not be pleasant in the least.

That night, I don't eat the food left out for me; despite my stomach gnawing at me for food, exhausted and famished after the intense training with my team, the hatred overwhelms me. My weaknesses burn.

I can't do a genjutsu properly. I can't talk to my brother about it. I can't hide in my brother's shadow, protected from nightmares and comforted by his presence—and for the first time in a long time, I find myself crying real tears, unprovoked by a genjutsu or nightmare.

 _Why can't I just do it._

In the end, I find myself in my brother's bed; although he isn't here, his room is safer than mine now. I cannot sleep—I won't let myself sleep. I won't let myself be taken over by nightmares.

So I stay there until the sun rises, talking in English and repeating formulas; my brain is numb and my eyes burn, but it doesn't matter in the end.

I meet my team at the training ground at nine, as usual. When Madoka-sensei arrives, she tells us the news and rather than train, we head straight to the Hokage Tower. Takumi is practically bouncing as he walks while Souta is more subdued, but obviously excited. The two of them chatter about what it might be

"Team Yamanaka reporting," Madoka-sensei says calmly to the chunin at the mission desk. The Hokage sits between the two of them.

"Oh, Madoka-san; you are earlier than usual," the one on the left notes. "What D-rank would you like today?"

She smiles at him. "No D-rank today. I formally request a C-rank; I have deemed my team ready."

He stumbles, obviously surprised, only to nod. "Let's see … your team has completed quite a few D-ranks," he notes. "And the required two months of active duty has been met. Hokage-sama?"

The Hokage watches us before nodding. "You have been training your team well; I approve of the assignment of a C-rank to Team Yamanaka."

"Ooh—what'd'ya think it's gonna be?" Takumi asks excitedly, turning to Souta and me. "I know it's probably gonna be something simple and easy, since we're new genin, but still—a C-rank!"

Souta grins. "I bet we'll have to guard a caravan," he guesses. "Or a merchant."

When they turn to me I just shrug my shoulders. "I dunno."

Takumi frowns. "Nagisa, are you feelin' alright today? You've been weird since this morning."

"I'm fine," I instinctively reply. "Don't worry about me, alright?"

Takumi frowns, and looks like he's about to say something else when Souta shakes his head. Reluctantly, he lets the topic drop.

"Ah, this should be fine," the chunin says, and the Hokage nods in approval. "This C-rank mission involves escorting a caravan to _Ko no Kuni_. The Daimyo of the country will be holding his annual food contest in two weeks time. The caravan carries several of the ingredients to be used in the contest."

 _Land of This?_ I think, somewhat confused by the name. _Or maybe Land of Child? … No, definitely Land of This._

What an odd name.

Madoka-sensei nods. "What time will the caravan be met?"

"They are expecting to depart at noon today. You will be required to stay with the caravan until the contest has concluded and then escort it back to Konoha."

"Does that mean we can do the food contests too?" Takumi blurts out, only to flush in embarrassment. "I mean—s-sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

Hokage-sama simply laughs lightly. He answers for the chunin, "There is no mean to apologize. Yes, you are free to take part in the festivities."

Takumi grins, turning to Souta and mumbling something regarding gyoza to the boy. Souta's eyes go wide and I can't help but smile at them. Their obsession with gyoza is amusing.

Madoka-sensei directs a look at them, before nodding respectfully. "Thank you, Hokage-sama, chunin-san. If that is all?"

"Yes, that will be all."

Noon today … that only gives us an hour to prepare. It's a good thing Madoka-sensei skipped over training and brought us straight to the mission desk.

Once we've left the room, Madoka-sensei leads us outside before saying, "All three of you return home and gather up your gear for a C-rank. We've gone over the necessities, but I will check when you arrive at the gate to ensure you've got everything."

"Yes, sensei," the three of us chorus, before heading on our way. When I make it back to the apartment I first go for my bag; I put it together awhile ago, but I double check everything is there. Three sealing scrolls; one for clothes, one for camping equipment, and the third for first aid. Ration bars, a small bottle of ration pills, and basic toiletries.

It may be a bit excessive, especially for a simple C-rank, but both Genma and Madoka-sensei drilled into me the necessities for a mission. It's better to be over prepared than underprepared after all.

I check my weapon pouch and decide to grab a few more kunai and shuriken from the weapon container Genma keeps in his room. He gave me permission to take them when needed, provided they are returned eventually.

Finally, after gathering everything together and hefting my bag onto my back, I write out a quick note for Genma, leaving it next to the one he wrote for me. Then, I head on my way.

Considering that we're escorting a caravan and not going on our own, it's safe to assume I won't need to use the ration bars—which is good, because, from what I've heard, they taste awful.

I'm the first one to reach the gate and I notice the caravan is already there. A group of men hover, talking idly, and I stay back to watch them. It's better to wait until my team is here before interacting.

Watch, observe, and learn, Madoka-sensei had taught us. Don't engage until necessary; gain as much intel as you can.

Madoka-sensei arrives next, and I nod at her. She takes up a spot beside me, watching the group silently. I'm surprised they haven't noticed us yet.

Takumi and Souta arrive at about the same time, and immediately come over to the two of us. "Ah, man, we're the last ones," Takumi complains. "I wanted to get here first."

Souta pats his shoulder. "At least we made it on time, Takumi; your mom was so persistent on keeping you."

"Agh … I know, right?" He sighs heavily. "It's so annoying. She's so protective, even though I'm a ninja now."

"What happened?" I ask, blinking a few times.

Souta replies, "Takumi's mom was worried he's too new of a genin to be on a C-rank. She didn't really wanna let him leave."

"Oh."

Madoka-sensei checks our equipment before giving the OK and leading us over to the caravan. "Ah; are you the shinobi we hired?" A burly man asks. "Pretty tiny, aren't you three?"

Takumi leans heavily on my shoulder. "Just her," he replies, a grin on his face. "Both of us aren't small."

The man laughs. "Very well."

"Perhaps introductions are in order," Madoka-sensei begins. "We are Team Yamanaka; I am Yamanaka Madoka; these are Shiranui Nagisa, Akiyama Takumi, and Yamaguchi Souta." She motions at each of us as she talks.

The man nods. "I'm Higuchi Renji. The woman next to me is my wife, Rukia," she smiles at us, "while those men talking over there are Fujimoto Yasuo, Takamori Suzaku, and Fukuda Kouhei. Finally," he motions to the teenage girl hovering near the front of the caravan, "that's my daughter, Momo."

Takumi starts talking to Renji about the festival—it's obvious he's excited— and Souta turns to me, linking his hands behind his back.

"Are you excited, Nagisa?" he asks. "It's our first C-rank; I know it won't be very exciting, but … it'll be cool to see a festival."

I nod. "Yeah; though I've never heard of this country," I admit. "It has a weird name."

Souta nods. "Either child- _ko_ or 'this'," he replies. " _Ko no Kuni …_ with a name like that, it's probably 'this'."

" _Kono,"_ I repeat. "It's kind of a play on words*."

He nods. After a moment's pause, he asks, "Nagisa … are you really alright?"

I open my mouth to reply, only for him to continue with, "I know you're gonna say you are—but … it's easy to tell you aren't. You look really tired."

I rub my hand across my cheek. "I just … didn't sleep well," I tell him. "Apprehensive, y'know?"

Souta looks unsure, and I continue with, "Also, Genma left sometime yesterday. I'm used to him going on missions, but it's always weird to come home and not have him around for the entire night."

He nods. "I guess that's true … it's like when I moved out of the orphanage."

I wait for him to continue. "It's like … at the orphanage, there was always someone there when I got back, and someone around. But since I got my own apartment, I'm just alone all the time."

"Didn't you say you didn't get along with many people at the orphanage?" I ask.

He nods. "That's true, but it's still a weird change." We watch Madoka-sensei talk to the guards at the gate, and he asks, "You're … not doing much better with the genjutsu, are you?"

I shake my head mutely. "I've been looking at books in the library—the ones I can, at least. And I think maybe we can try some of the stuff I read." He looks at me with wide eyes. "I'm gonna help you figure it out, OK? Don't worry."

I blink a few times, before ducking my head low. "I … sure," I mumble. "Thanks, Souta. But it's not a big deal; you don't have to waste your time like this."

"It isn't!" I look up at his exclamation. "It's not a waste of my time—I wanna help you get it. I know … I know you don't like failure, and all the times Madoka-sensei or Takumi have tried to help hasn't helped. So let me help too, OK? I haven't really helped since we started learning it, so let me do it now."

"… Thanks, Souta," I say shakily. I spot Madoka-sensei motioning for us to come over. "I think it's time to go."

* * *

 ***The kanji for the country is** **此の国** **, with** **此の** **being pronounced 'kono' and being the kanji for 'this'. But the kanji for child (noun) is also pronounced ko, except it's written** **子** **.** **の** **is a possessive particle in japanese, with kuni being the country and ko being what's possessed. If that makes sense.**

 **A/N: We hit 100 reviews! I had a lot of apprehension over this chapter, mostly because of the POV change again and conversation between Genma and Madoka. I hope it met up to everyone's standards. Thanks for reading, please drop a review of what you thought, liked, disliked, and so forth.**

 **For anyone surprised or irritated about Nagisa not being able to figure out the genjutsu completely after two weeks; there's a reason for this. It's a simple genjutsu that she wouldn't have nearly as much trouble casting if not for her fear. Fear is a very powerful emotion and one that she's never been able to overcome. She's always pushed it aside and pretended it wasn't there.**

 **Also consider the fact that they only spend a certain amount of time working on it every day, and that after Takumi and Souta figured out the genjutsu that time was drastically reduced so Madoka-sensei could continue to train them all while working with Nagisa on the genjutsu. It's not the kind of thing you can really work on by yourself, and Nagisa's too afraid of asking her brother to help due to her insecurities. So hopefully no one is too upset or irritated at me for this. Plus, she** _ **has**_ **made progress, but she can't keep the genjutsu up. The first step is leaves, and she's gotten there. But the second step is having the jutsu appear, and the third being holding the jutsu. So she's having inconsistent results.**


End file.
